


Uninvited

by zaynscheekbones



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M, friends to lovers innit, lil bit of angst, lil bit of fluff, slow burn I'm afraid, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2018-08-22 10:18:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 56,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8282345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaynscheekbones/pseuds/zaynscheekbones
Summary: A first time escort keeps screwing things up for Seunghyun.





	1. First and Seconds

They met at art school, both driven and directionless in equal measure. Coming together had been easy, staying together even easier. Within a year they were moving in together, sometime this year he would probably propose. Things were going great, he had a job he loved, a woman he loved and a flat full of tasteful, Scandinavian furniture. But, for the first time since they got together three years ago, his girlfriend wasn’t here with him on his birthday.

 

His friends tried to drag him out to celebrate but he turned them down in favour of a couple of bottles of red wine and the warm embrace of his flannel pyjamas. Which is how he ended up at 11:49 pm, 11 minutes before his 25th birthday, curled up in bed in front of a pretentious film noir. He’d left the bath running in the background, after pouring half the contents of his girlfriend’s expensive bath soap into the tub, and let his head sink into his pillows. If he was going to feel lonely, hell he was at least going to be comfortable too.

 

After shaking his wine glass to suck every last drop out of it, he forces himself out of bed to refill the glass. The film pauses on an unflattering face and he laughed to himself as he stumbles out into the empty flat, wincing as his bare feet touch onto cold tiles. The wine glugs as he poured it into his empty glass, echoing around the kitchen and serving to remind him just how alone he is tonight. He laughs to himself again, making his way back into his room with wine in hand. The bath is appropriately bubbly when he got back, so he shrugs off his bath robe and stretches a tentative toe into the water. Just before letting his whole body melt into the bath, he's interrupted by the doorbell. Twice.

 

Usually he would just ignore it, but this time he's drunk. And drunk Seunghyun can't ignore things. Drunk Seunghyun sighs loudly, aggressively shrugs his bath robe back over his shoulders and stalks, wine glass in hand, through his flat to the front door. His soapy feet leave bubbles over the hardwood flooring (if his girlfriend was here she would kill him) and there is more than one occasion when his foot slides out from underneath him. This only angers him more, and he flings the door open, determined to know who is ruining his already shitty night.

 

A smaller man (smaller than Seunghyun, at least) stands on the other side of the door frame, leaning against the wood and jutting his hip into the air. Tight, leather pants grip his thighs and a netted top rests on top of it. Seunghyun can see his nipple peeking out.

 

“Happy birthday, big boy.” The man says, looking up at Seunghyun through heavily lined eyes and a fringe that must have come straight out of a gay club. He blinks, not sure if he was drunk, dreaming or having one of those  psychotic episodes he’s read about in Vice magazine. But the man reaches a delicate arm out and brushes his fingers against Seunghyun’s cheek, which he _feels._ So no, definitely not a psychotic episode.

 

Fight or flight responses finally kicking in, he jumps away from the man’s touch.

 

“I think you have the wrong flat.” He says, moving to shut the door between them.

 

“Seunghyun, right?” The stranger butts in before he could do so. Seunghyun hesitates. “Your friend said it was your 25th birthday, said you were too shy to ask for this yourself.” He explains, sliding his lithe body in between the doorway and crossing the boundary into the flat.

 

“What? The fuckers, seriously – hey, I didn’t say you could come in!” Seunghyun’s voice rises about 5 pitches as he realises the man was now _in his flat,_ nipples and all. It earns him a nervous giggle from the other man, who stands in front of him wringing his hands.

 

“Just trust me.” The escort (Seunghyun was fairly certain of this now) whispers, and in the blink of an eye his hands were wrapped around Seunghyun’s waist and a warm tongue was prying his lips open.

 

“Hmpf.” Seunghyun mumbles, as their teeth clash and the other man knocks the air out of him. His hands shake as they grabbed at Seunghyun’s buttons unsuccessfully. Quickly, Seunghyun comes to his senses, shoving the man off himself and into the opposite wall.

 

“Dude!” Comes out of his mouth next, in a voice that hasn't been that high since he started puberty. He immediately regrets saying dude (what was he, a frat boy?), but at least it gets the other man’s attention. “I’m not gay! My friends must have ordered you as a joke.” He says, panting. Adding “Sorry.”, as he sees the younger man’s face slowly crumble. They both stand in his hallway, an awkward silence weighing on their shoulders. Scratching the back of his neck and keeping his gaze firmly planted on the floor, Seunghyun’s unwanted escort finally speaks.  

 

“The thing is…the thing is I haven’t been paid yet. They said you would do it, and if I don’t get paid then the agency gets mad and it comes out of my own pocket.”

 

The look in his eyes is enough to convince Seunghyun that he’s telling the truth, but if his girlfriend was here she would tell him through pursed lips and clipped tones that he was always too trusting, and _did he even remember the time he took a shot from a stranger and woke up naked in the bathroom of a club with his identity stolen._

 

“Let me just call my friend real quick.” He says, to placate the voice in the back of his head more than anything. The other man nods and he quickly selects a number from his contacts, pretty sure he knows which arsehole would set out to ruin his night like this. “Lee Dong Hwi.” He snarls down the phone, to be answered by laughs from the other side.

 

“I’ll deal with you tomorrow. Do I need to pay him?” He cuts in before his friend can say anything; he’s a struggling actor with a habit of running away with himself once he’s given an ounce of attention.

 

“Yes, I also said there would be dinner in it for him.” Dong Hwi’s low, baritone voice answers down the phone before cracking into laughter again. Seunghyun hangs up, fighting the urge to smack his head into the wall. Turning back to the stranger in his flat, he is just about to ask how much it will be when the faint sound of trickling water registers in his head. Running water. From the bath. By the time he’s offered a garbled explanation to the escort, put his glass of wine on the counter and ran into the bathroom, it’s flooded. Bubbles litter the tiles and a steady stream of water flows over the tub. He groans loudly, not wanting his night to go like this one bit and vaguely aware of the other man’s presence behind him.

 

“Fuck!” He curses loudly, wading over to the taps to finally turn the water off. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to spend the rest of this shitty night alone, or maybe it’s the wine making him feel overly emotional and responsible for the other man’s well being but before he can stop himself he’s turning around and saying; “My friend said I owe you dinner. I could do with some comfort food right now, does pizza sound ok?”

 

Maybe he’s gone insane.

 

 

 

 

 

The escort has a name; Jiyong. And today is Jiyong’s first job, he tells Seunghyun with another nervous grin. They’re sat on Seunghyun’s couch, clothes still damp from the flooded bathroom, necking back wine. Jiyong puts it away like his life depends on it and Seunghyun starts to top his glass up slower, not wanting to add a vomiting escort onto the extensive list of reasons as to why tonight is shitty.

 

“Why are you doing…this.” He doesn’t have the guts to call it what it is and waves his hands to try and articulate it. “You don’t strike me as someone who’s comfortable with it.”

 

“Don’t get me wrong, I love sex.” Jiyong says as he hiccups, leaning back into the sofa and crossing his legs. Seunghyun’s girlfriend would hate this. “But I’m just doing this to pay off my student loans. Not that, like, there’s anything wrong with people who _like_ this, I just don’t.” He’s rambling, now. Wrapped up in a hoodie that Seunghyun gave him and onto his third glass of wine in thirty minutes. A knock at the door saves Seunghyun from having to carry on the conversation as the pizza arrives and Jiyong claps his hands together in anticipation.

 

“So what do you do?” Jiyong asks him as he makes his way back to the sofa, pizza in tow. Heat from the boxes makes his glasses steam up as he hands them to Jiyong, planting himself down next to the younger man.

 

“I’m in art restoration.”

 

“Ah, explains why you have so much money.” Jiyong replies, unabashedly, waving his arms around the room to demonstrate his point.

 

“It’s not so much me,” Seunghyun chuckles. “My girlfriend runs an art gallery. That’s why she couldn’t be here today. A new exhibition opening.” He finds himself explaining, without being asked to explain.

 

“I see.”

 

They finish the pizza in silence, broken by the sound of Jiyong slurping at his empty wine glass. Seunghyun fetches a couple of crisp £20 notes before guiding Jiyong to the door way and they both look as dirty as they feel as he places the money in Jiyong’s hands.

 

“Do you need me to get you a taxi home?” He asks the other man, just realizing that he’s still wearing his hoodie but lacking the energy to do anything about it.

 

“It’s fine.” Jiyong waves his hand and offers Seunghyun one last smile. Seunghyun watches him stagger away, then closes the door on the weirdest night of his life since he tried to get high from bath salts at University. It’s four am when his girlfriend finally comes home, smelling of cigarettes and champagne and a night that he wasn’t invited to. His hands roam over her body as he presses kisses into her neck, and the headboard slams against the wall as they have sex.

 

“I wish you’d been here, babe.” He whispers to her as their breath falls into a rhythm and their limbs intertwine with each other.  

 

 

 

 

 

It’s been a week since his birthday and he’s finally seeing his friends again, having put them off every night this week in favour of his girlfriend. Whipping noises greet him as he makes his way over to them at the bar, hugs and beer thrust his way. A couple of shots later and Soo Hyuk is dragging them to his favourite gay club, the kind of club where all the music is Madonna and the toilets look like you could catch an STD from breathing, because they just _have_ to meet this new guy he’s trying to sleep with. They’re all very well acquainted with Soo Hyuk’s sexual conquests but go along with him anyway. Which is how he ended up, for the second time this month, stood in front of Jiyong, speechless.

 

This time his neither of his nipples are visible, covered by a black top with a dragon curled up on top of it. Black shadow lines his eyes again but this time his fringe os pushed up into a quiff. He looks like a Korean Danny Zuko and Seunghyun can't take his eyes off of it.

 

“Do you two know each other?” Soo Hyuk asks, as he watches their eyes widen and their jaws go slack.

 

“No!” Jiyong jumps in. “Not at all, you just didn’t tell me you had such a handsome friend.” He nudges Soo Hyuk playfully and Seunghyun takes the queue to laugh along with him.

 

“Well good luck with that one.” Soo Hyuk replies, resting his arm on Jiyong’s shoulders in a manner so possessive it makes Seunghyun a little uncomfortable. Soo Hyuk’s arm travels down Jiyong’s waist and Seunghun makes the decision to leave for the bar before the situation gets any weirder, waving goodbyes and throwing ‘I’ll see you later’s over his shoulder. Jaeger bombs wait for him at the bar and he downs them in quick succession, wincing as the sickly-sweet liquid travels down his throat. That’s just the start of it.

 

Sweat clings to his body as he dances up against strangers, too wasted to know where his body ends and theirs begin. Someone slips a pill into his hand and without giving it a second thought he’s swallowing it with his vodka, the beat of the music shaking his body to his core and getting rid of any anxieties he would usually feel. An arm wraps around his waist from behind and he swivels round, met by Jiyong’s face and a smile that he could only describe as electric plastered over it.

 

“Hey, have you seen Soo Hyuk?” Jiyong shouts, barely audible over the music. Seunghyun shakes his head in response, he hasn’t seen his friends in ages. Jiyong moves in as if to whisper something and then their lips are meeting, Jiyong’s hands grip his waist and the room starts spinning. People melt into one another and the song turns into incomprehensible sounds because all he can think of is that Jiyong is kissing him again and he _really needs a cigarette._

 

“I have a girlfriend.” He manages to say, once Jiyong breaks away from him. The other man lifts up the corner of his mouth and shrugs. The rest of the night is a blur.


	2. Georgia O'Keeffe

Three glasses of free champagne down and he’s waxing lyrical about Georgia O’Keeffe to a woman he’s never met before and is likely just humouring because of his pretty face. She gives up listening once his girlfriend comes back, slipping her arm through his and joining him in a comfortable silence in front of the painting.

 

“Eun Hee,” He says, addressing her. Hues and pigments swirl in front of his eyes and he struggles to articulate how it makes him feel. “Why do people say her paintings look like vaginas? I can’t see it.” Is what he says instead, his bottom lip jutting out into a pout. Silky strands of hair drape down the side of her face and he moves to push it behind her ear.

 

“I think you’ve had enough to drink.” Is her response, laughing as she says it. Her eyes twinkle as the corners of her mouth pull up into a smile and her laugh is music to his ears. Soft jazz accompanies them in the background, melting into the soft hum of people’s conversations and the clinks of champagne glasses. They’re at the opening of Georgia  O’Keeffe’s latest exhibitions, one of his favourite artists.

 

“Eun Hee! Seunghyun!” He hears from behind, breaking his reverie in front of the painting. Feeling the clap of a hand on his back a second later, he is greeted by Soo Hyuk, Jiyong tagging along behind him. Seunghyun’s stomach does a somersault, after having managed to push Jiyong and his lips to the deep, deep recesses of his mind for a good few weeks. His girlfriend and Soo Hyuk catch up as he looks at his nails, fixated on a dry bit of skin hanging off his thumbnail.

 

Heat floods his body and he starts to sweat, beads of perspiration forming on his forehead and making his hands clammy against his cold champagne glass. The irrational part of his mind is surprised his girlfriend hasn’t caught on yet, it seems _so obvious_ to him, but the other two carry on their conversation as if Seunghyun isn’t dying beside them. Soft voices from conversations in the background overload his senses and suddenly he really needs some fresh air and just to get away from these fucking paintings.

 

Georgia O’Keeffe. Overrated.

 

“I don’t think you’ve met Jiyong yet, right?” Soo Hyuk’s voice penetrates his consciousness and brings his thoughts back into the room. He’s addressing his girlfriend, who offers a warm smile to Jiyong. Jiyong looks up from the floor in a flash, lost in his thoughts just as much as Seunghyun. “He’s such a fan of Georgia O’Keffe, I had to bring him. Not surprised to see you guys here too.”

 

“Jiyong? I’m Eun Hee, lovely to meet you.” She leans forward to kiss him on the cheek. He can’t breathe, convinced somehow she will smell him on Jiyong. “Seunghyun is a huge fan too. You just caught us discussing the vaginal side to her paintings.” He chokes on air as Jiyong offers a small chuckle.

 

“Come, there’s one the gallery just acquired that you really _must_ see.” She says, taking Jiyong’s arm and leading him away. Black silk cascades down her body as she moves and her heels put arches into her legs, she’s the epitome of elegance. But he finds his gaze being dragged away from her legs, up to the soft arch in Jiyong’s eyebrows and the way his black hair seems to fall perfectly into place.

 

It’s just him and Soo Hyuk, now. Him, Soo Hyuk and a giant elephant in the room that he’s pretty sure only he can sense.

 

“This is our 5th date, can you believe?” He says. Seunghyun really doesn’t want to talk about this. “5th date and I haven’t slept with him yet.” Buttons strain on his shirt as he puffs out his chest in pride.

 

“I really like this one, Seunghyun.”

 

Sincerity is written all over Soo Hyuk’s face and, despite his previous endeavours, Seunghyun believes him.

 

“He’s great, exciting and kind and so, _so_ sweet.” Soo Hyuk carries on, uninvited. He knows how Soo Hyuk feels; when he first fell for his girlfriend he couldn’t stop talking about her. Would almost pull strangers over in the street to proclaim his love for her. She jokes now that paintings have taken her place in his heart.

 

He still hasn’t spoken, too wrapped in his own thoughts to articulate anything. But the look on Soo Hyuk’s face sobers him up a little bit, rationalises his thoughts. He’s drunk, and the alcohol in his body is blowing this all out of proportion. That he’s sure of. So he necks back the rest of his champagne in one swift move and in the same heartbeat pushes away the doubts at the back of his mind; the tiny voice screaming that Jiyong is an _escort,_ an escort who has kissed him _twice._

 

“Good, I’m glad you’ve found some one like that.” He finally says, champagne coursing through his veins. Across the room he spots his girlfriend and Jiyong, their laughs dancing around the room and drawing everyone’s gaze to them. He feels the familiar pride swell in his chest, staring at his girlfriend.

 

He was definitely blowing things out of proportion.

 

 

 

 

 

Over the weeks, Jiyong becomes a regular fixture when he and his friends meet up. It’s good; like Soo Hyuk said, Jiyong is exciting. Exciting and gentle all at the same time. They have a very similar sense of humour, and slowly he finds himself turning to Jiyong after making a joke, eager to see a smile spread across his face and watch his hands fling up to cover it. One time, after a _lot_ of alcohol, he pulls Jiyong’s hands away from his face. He vaguely remembers telling Jiyong to stop hiding his smile, and more clearly remembers the sour look on Soo Hyuk’s face as he did so. The next morning he wakes up to a text from Soo Hyuk, saying that they finally slept together. He swallows hard, not sure if the bile he tastes was from all the alcohol in his system or not.

 

In his spare time, Jiyong was in a band. Somehow, Soo Hyuk managed to drag him along to brunch so he wouldn’t have to meet Jiyong’s band members for the first time alone. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting; the band itself had gone through about 40 names and were currently under the name of ‘Angelina Brolie’, usually playing at gay bars and gay weddings (‘Gay for Johnny Depp’ was Seunghyun’s favourite of their names). But it wasn’t this. 

One of them has hair covering his eyes (Seunghyun could swear the bowl cut hadn’t been popular since the 70s), the other bright platinum locks, and the last is decked out like a soft rocker on the cover of a Rolling Stones magazine. In short, he feels woefully uncool next to them all. It is nice, though, even if he finds himself talking to them much more than Soo Hyuk does. All being in the creative industry, they have a lot of jokes and stories to exchange. 

 

It was nice, though, even if he found himself talking to them much more than Soo Hyuk did. They were all in the creative industry, so they had a lot of jokes and stories to pass. While the others were busy discussing their upcoming gig, he turned to Soo Hyuk, who had been sitting in silence for most of the meal.

 

“So, meeting his friends huh? That’s pretty serious.” He whispered. Soo Hyuk shrugged in response, surprising him.  

 

“You know how it is.” Soo Hyuk whispered back. He wasn’t sure he knew. Drawing them back into the conversation, Youngbae (the soft rocker) addresses him.

 

“Ji said your flat is beautiful, by the way.” There’s a brief pause while Seunghyun tries to work out who ‘Ji’ is. “Could you give me some tips for decorating, by any chance? My girlfriend’s moving in soon, I really want to make it special for her.”

 

Seungri interrupts with a whipping noise, blond hair throwing itself back and forth with his movements.

 

“Youngbae is totally besotted. It’s gross, actually.” He says, receiving a smack from Youngbae. They’re all laughing, watching Seungri and Youngae exchange blows back and forth, until;

 

“Jiyong, when did you go to Seunghyun’s?” Soo Hyuk asks. If they were in a film, this is when the record-scratch sound effect would play. They all freeze, Jiyong’s fork halfway to his mouth and Daesung’s hand in the middle of sweeping hair out of his eyes. All aware that everyone at the table new full well why Jiyong was at Seunghyun’s flat, everyone except Soo Hyuk. A blush creeps across Jiyong’s face and he wipes a napkin across his mouth, stalling for time. There’s a long pause, in which the sound of other diners fills the silence.

 

“He came over to have a look at the Geogia O’Keeffe replica we have, the lily one.” Seunghyun interjects. It’s a shitty excuse, but Soo Hyuk accepts it with a shrug. Seunghyun is left wondering why he just lied to his best friend.

 

 

 

 

 

He’s been spending a lot more time with his friends, recently. Throwing himself into social situations when usually he would try to make any excuse to get out of them. Dong Hwi joked that Eun Hee had finally let him off his ball and chain, but he didn’t know how close he was to hitting to truth. She was a career woman, which was partly what made him love her so much. Determination and ambition were second nature to her and when she set her sights on something she was unstoppable. But her late nights at the art gallery had increased, and he begun to feel more and more like a disillusioned house wife from the 60s. Drinking wine alone every evening and leaving dinner for her in Tupperware boxes.

 

But they’re out for their 3rd anniversary and all it takes is one glass of wine and her smile shining back at him for him to forgive her for her absentness. It’s her favourite restaurant, paired with her favourite vintage Sauvignon Blanc. Silver stars adorn the tie he’s wearing tonight, a present from her on their first anniversary, and the plunge of her dress makes him want to take it off there and then.

 

The restaurant is busy, but there is no mistaking the laugh that makes it’s way across the room during a lull in the conversation. Craning his neck to look around his girlfriend, he spots Jiyong. He spots Jiyong with a much, _much,_ older man. Instantly recognizing the situation, he adverts his gaze, but not before Eun Hee has caught on. She spins around, only to spin right back again to face him a second later.

 

“ _Is that Jiyong?!”_ She whispers. He could play dumb. But he’s too stupid to play dumb.

 

“Yeah, I think he’s here with his dad.” He says. Every bone in his body is trying to be nonchalant right now. Lying to the people closest to him is getting to be a habit where Jiyong is concerned, a habit he doesn’t enjoy.

 

“That’s nice.” Eun Hee says, leaving it at that. He feels the weight of a thousand suns lift off his shoulders, and the rest of the meal goes without a hitch. That is until Jiyong, clearly unaware of their presence, makes his way over to the toilet. Seunghyun is more than happy to let him carry on with his business, but Eun Hee reaches out an arm.

 

“Jiyong!” Her hand grips the lapels of his jacket and stops him in his tracks. Red nail polish contrasts with the black of his suit as she smiles up at him. “Are you here with your father?”

 

“Y-yes.” Jiyong stutters, flashing a glance at Seunghyun, who tries to convey through their eye contact _just how uncomfortable this situation is making him._

 

“Ok, I’ll let you get on. But you must promise me that you and Soo Hyuk will come round for dinner sometime soon! I haven’t seen you in ages.” She says, flashing a winning smile at Jiyong. A brief stab of annoyance comes, annoyance that she has time for Jiyong and Soo Hyuk but apparently no time for him. But he’s worried he’s becoming like a petulant child, so he pushes the thoughts away.

 

 

 

 

 

Jiyong stays true to the promise, bringing Soo Hyuk round for dinner later that week. Seunghyun makes ramen, the way Eun Hee likes it and pulls out the bottles of wine he was saving for a special occasion. The conversation flows, which is a relief because the second they stepped through his front door all Seunghyun could think of was the first time Jiyong was in his flat. The memory of wet lips on his and hands gripping his shirt threatens to burn a hole in his brain. He’s burning to ask Jiyong about the other night, about the fact that he’s clearly still an escort, but refrains from doing so. Exercises restraint when it comes to the wine because a drunk Seunghyun is a loose-lipped Seunghyun. Soo Hyuk on the other hand, dives into the wine. He drinks so fast that Seunghyun has to get another bottle out before they’ve even finished their meal, feeling a stab of regret that it’s ruined his carefully chosen pairing of wine and food.

 

They’re having a cigarette on the balcony after eating, him and Soo Hyuk. Companionable silence sits in between them as they take drag after drag, and an orange glow fills the sky; a by product of London’s light pollution.

 

“I want to see the stars.” Soo Hyuk mumbles, echoing Seunghun’s thoughts and drawing his attention back to him.  “Xin has been messaging me again.” He says next, looking pointedly down at his phone and anywhere but Seunghyun. Anger bubbles in Seunghyun’s chest; he knows what this means for the other man.

 

“Ignore him.” Seunghyun all but snarls. “You have a good thing going with Jiyong, don’t ruin it by going back to that arsehole again.” His friend sighs as if to say _it isn’t that easy,_ but Seunghyun doesn’t let him go. Too many nights he’s spent looking after a sobbing Soo Hyuk after Xin chucked him out.

 

“Seriously, Soo Hyuk. Don’t do this again.”

 

Soo Hyuk hums his assent, turning his back on Seunghyun and walking back into the flat. Ash from Seunghyun’s cigarette drops onto his jeans, but he’s too fixed on his friend to notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really trying hard to avoid painting Seunghyun's girlfriend as a bitch, so please let me know if it starts coming across as that lmao. I'm sick of the misogyny that often accompanies m/m fanfics, but it's so easy to fall into the trap of writing her as an antagonist. I've had the weekend off uni so updates are probably going to be a lot slower after this one haha, but I hope this new chapter is ok. It's going to be more of a slow-burn story.


	3. A blank canvas

Putting it mildly, he’s not having a great day. Starting with a fight with his girlfriend, over something so pointless and stupid that it’s still leaving a bitter taste in his mouth, having to cancel his card for fraud and finally a meeting with an investor. He could really have done without the last one, so out of his depth that he was surprised no one called his bluff. Come 3pm, he’d shut himself in his in office, sinking onto his leather sofa with a glass of gin in one hand. The liquor slowly helps his mind to unwind and gradually the throbbing in his temples starts to ease off.

 

Even as a kid, he could never let an argument lie. Hell, he never even used to argue until he met Eun Hee, who told him it was healthier not to keep things bottled up. But he’s not so sure, not so sure that the pure _anxiety_ he feels after an argument is all that healthy for him.  This whole day has felt like ice cold hands have been wrapped around his stomach and he _hates_ it. Hates that they can’t just be passive aggressive and ignore things. Slipping his phone out of his pocket, he’s knows the only way to get rid of how he’s feeling is to bite the bullet and talk to her.

 

She answers on the fourth ring, and every second she takes to answer feels like a minute to him.

 

“I’m sorry about this morning.” He says, before she even has a chance to say hello. Response comes in the form of a sigh, and seconds pass before she speaks. Seunghyun can hear her tugging her hand through her hair.

 

“You already apologised like, 5 times, Seunghyun.” Exasperation bleeds through her voice. “We’ve talked about this, it was just a small argument. It’s fine.”

 

A small smile spreads over his face and, for the first time in hours, he feels his body relax.

 

“I know, I just wanted to make sure that we’re still ok.”

 

“We’re fine, Seunghyun. I need to get back to work now, I’ll see you later.” She says softly, and Seunghyun just about manages to mumble “mhm” before she hangs up. By force of habit, he reaches his hand into his left pocket, placing his fingers around the small box in it. He bought an engagement ring a few weeks ago and, clichéd as it is, has started carrying it around with him wherever he goes, terrified he might lose it if he doesn’t. Only his mum knows, and not by choice. It took one look at his face for her to work out that something was up (one look followed by a rib-crushing hug and tears in her eyes).

 

It’s a natural progression, Seunghyun keeps telling himself. They get married, they have very attractive children and eventually move out to the countryside to live a boring and domestic life. But memories of his parents divorce, of the sleepless nights and arguments that would shake the house, always resurface in the end and stop him in his tracks.

 

The ice in his drink has melted into the gin and he’s fighting to stay awake, now. Eyes slowly closing and drowsiness taking a hold of his body, but he has so much more work to do before he can take a nap. In moments like these Seunghyun always wonders what went wrong, how did he get here from an art history degree; writing paperwork and presentations and a mind filled with details and details and _details. Work your way up,_ everyone says. Work and work until one day you’re at the top, and you can do whatever the hell it is you want to do. He thinks he lost sight of what he wants to do a long time ago, however. Inevitably, he ends up falling asleep, waking up 2 hours later disorientated and foggy and hating the world more than ever. There’s a split second where he thinks about staying late to finish the pile of paperwork that isn’t going anywhere, but before he can even finish that thought process he’s got his bag in his hand and is out of the door.

 

Arriving home after the journey from hell on the tube, he’s be greeted by his girlfriend’s parents. Warmth and the sound of laughter floods into the hallway as he opens the front door, followed seconds later by Eun Hee’s mother. An impossibly elegant, stick thin woman who, despite her friendly advances, never fails to make him feel inadequate. He gets on much better with her father, a man who likes a drink just as much as he does. Many family events he’s been dragged along to have ended with him and the older man drunk in a corner, bitching about the other guests until either Eun Hee or her mother drags them apart.

 

He becomes a blank canvas around them, not sure if they like the real Seunghyun or the Seunghyun they want their daughter to be with, the man they paint on to him, and slips this mask on as he walks into the kitchen. Leaning in for a kiss, Eun Hee whispers;

 

“I had no idea you’d be this late.”

 

There’s a tight smile plastered on her face and the strength of her perfume makes his eyes wince. He barely manages to mumble an apology before being dragged into her father’s arms.

 

The wine and the conversation are both flowing, and Seunghyun finds his hand drifting closer and closer towards his left pocket. If he doesn’t do it tonight, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get the courage to again. So it’s during a lull in the conversation that he finally makes up his mind, clearing his throat and gripping his fingers around the tiny black box.

 

“Eun Hee.” He says, voice shaky and all moisture having left his mouth. “I’ve wanted to do this for a while now and, I mean, if it’s ok with your parents-“

 

Eun Hee’s eyes flit down towards the box, barely visible between his shaking hands, and she interrupts him.

 

“Maybe we should talk about this later, yeah?” She says, gentlya. And it feels like the clocks have stopped, like his heart has stopped beating and his lungs have stopped working.

 

“Yeah, of course.” He manages to get out.

 

Her parents leave shortly after, and Seunghyun barely remembers saying goodbye to them. All he can hear is his own heartbeat, beating so slow and irregularly that he’s considered calling an ambulance. Sitting on the sofa opposite him, legs crossed and fingers wrapped around an empty wine glass is Eun Hee, and Seunghyun briefly wonders how she’s managing to look so collected whilst he feels like the weight of the world is caving in on him.

 

“Do you really think we’re ready for that?” She finally says. “ _That_ ” is left unexplained, but they both know what it means. “We’re both so busy, and, as close as we are and you know how much I like you, you can’t really think that our relationship is ready for this?”

 

He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to articulate anything because, if he’s honest, his mind has gone blank. There’s a ringing in his ears and he could swear it’s getting louder and louder. Faint sounds from other flats capture his attention and he lets them, because if he doesn’t think about something else right now he’s going to start crying.

 

What a shitty day.

 

 

 

 

 

He didn’t think it was possible, but the next few weeks get progressively worse. On the following Tuesday he loses his job, _lack of passion_ , they said. You could ask him about it in ten years and he likely still wouldn’t understand what went wrong. Every night he lies next to his girlfriend, a silk nightdress accentuating all the right parts and moonlight dancing off her curves. But all he can think about is what she said, how she doesn’t think their relationship is ready for that. And he’s probably overreacting (he has a habit of doing that) and paying too much attention to the irrational thoughts in his head, but he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this alone. The kind of alone where you can feel it in your stomach.

 

It’s after a few days of wallowing in self pity that Jiyong messages him.

 

“I need to talk to you.” Is all the message says. Seunghyun closes the screen, ignoring it. Half tempted to throw his iPhone against the wall, he snuggles deeper into his blankets. But Jiyong is persistent, and his phone starts to ring. He closes his eyes, hoping that if he ignores it the younger man will take the hint. That’s not the case.

 

“I went to your office, they said you didn’t work there anymore? So I’m coming over. I need to talk to you.” The next message reads. Seunghyun swears out loud, his voice echoing around the empty house. In the next few minutes he’s managed to have a shower and shave, cutting himself several times in the process, but the grease is out of his hair and at least he looks semi acceptable. Short knocks on his front door get him out of the bathroom, dabbing tissue on his cheek as he walks through the flat. He turns the knob and goes to open the door, but Jiyong pushes past it with all the strength of a gale force wind. Hair in a furious mess and wild eyes, Jiyong stands opposite him breathing heavily.

 

“Did you know?” Jiyong asks, and despite the current state of shock his body is in Seunghyun doesn’t miss the undertone of desperation in his voice.

 

“Know what?” Seunghyun finally asks.

 

“That Soo Hyuk was fucking his ex-boyfriend behind my back.”

 

 

 

 

 

After practically thrusting a glass of wine into the younger man’s hands, Seunghyun sits opposite him on the sofa. The other’s hands tug at his hair so violently that Seunghyun is worried that clumps might start to fall to the floor.

 

“I didn’t know.” He says. “I mean, I had my suspicions. But I didn’t know, I promise.”

 

Jiyong purses his lips in response. The anger that greeted Seunghyun has faded now, and Jiyong just looks defeated. With his shoulders slumped over his tiny frame, he looks entirely dejected as he takes another sip of wine.

 

“I should have said something to him, probably. But weren’t you kind of doing the same thing, with your…your…job?” He says, starting to falter as he finishes his question. Jiyong’s eyes flash.

 

“That’s different! I needed the money, and I didn’t even sleep with any of them. It was always just dinner.”

 

“Didn’t seem like you just wanted to take me for dinner.” Seunghyun says before he can stop himself (it’s like he has a death wish sometimes).

 

“Don’t.” Jiyong growls. Seunghyun mutters a sorry, just before a great heaving sob takes over Jiyong’s body. “I didn’t need this right now, Christ. I just got kicked out of my flat, I can’t afford anywhere else and I’ll be fucked if I’m going to live with Soo Hyuk.” He says through tears. High heels click on the wooden floor as Eun Hee lets herself into the flat, several bags in hand. One look at Jiyong and she’s stopped in her tracks, eyes flashing to Seunghyun for an explanation. He doesn’t know where to begin.

 

She was always much better at comforting people. During their time at University, she would be there with a hug and a Netflix subscription, ready for him every time life got a bit too much (which was a lot of times). He watches her wrap her arms around Jiyong, pulling him in closer like she used to do with him. Rubbing her hand up and down Jiyong’s shaking back, she waits until his sobs have subsided to eventually speak.

 

“Soo Hyuk is an arsehole, but listen, we have a spare room. I hate to think of you struggling, so why not stay with us until you get back on your feet?” She says, brushing her hands along his cheek to wipe away tears.

 

“What?” Jiyong and Seunghyun say in unison. She looks up at him, but all he can offer is a frown. They were supposed to be working through things together, not adopting a stray fucking dog.

 

“I can’t let you do that.” Jiyong says, looking between Seunghyun and his girlfriend.

 

“What, you need the room for all the blank canvases you never got round to painting?” She says, looking at Seunghyun pointedly. “It’s fine, Jiyong. I insist actually.”


	4. The statue of David

Jiyong moves in on a Wednesday, and it takes Seunghyun every once of strength within him not to act like a child who didn’t get his way while helping him get his things up to the flat. Together they manage to heave three heavy suitcases into the lift (it’s just clothes, Jiyong says), and an uncomfortable silence fills the air as the lift starts to ascend the floors. Jiyong makes several attempts at conversation, but they fall dead in the air.

 

The lift reaches the fifth floor and he sighs involuntarily, a habit that’s becoming increasingly hard to break, and Jiyong looks at him.

 

“Sorry.” Seunghyun mutters, looking down. “I’m just tired.”

 

He’s not _just_ tired, he’s exhausted. Exhausted of feeling like he’s going to cry at any moment, but it’s not fair to unload all his shit on the other man so he bites his tongue, sticks to _just tired_. 

 

They’re both breathing heavily by the time they’ve dragged them to the flat (he needs to quit smoking), and his mind has wandered off, forgetting Jiyong is even behind him until the younger man trips over his coat rack (a one of a kind, art deco piece).

 

After picking up the fallen coats and ignoring Jiyong’s excessive apologies, he leads him straight to the spare room.

 

“Wow.” Jiyong whispers. “Eun Hee wasn’t joking, then.”

 

The walls are lined with empty canvases, _ghosts of his creativity_ , his mother would say if she saw it _._ Brushing his hands along them, Jiyong spins round to look at him.

 

“Why haven’t you painted any?” His eyes are wide, searching for an answer. To Seunghyun, it’s an intrusive question and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up (he has a bad habit of getting overly defensive).

 

“Didn’t have the time.” He murmurs, eyes caught on the biggest canvas. That was going to be a self portrait, but work and life got in the way. A little voice in the back of his head would always accompany him in front of his canvases, asking why he should even bother when he’s not very good. “Can’t all follow our dreams like you did, some of us have to live in the real world.”

 

He doesn’t know why he says it, why he feels the need to make a jab. Jiyong’s eyes widen, and Seunghyun feels immediately guilty.

 

“Sorry, I’m just tired and being an arse.”

 

“It’s fine; you’re letting me live here for free. Be as big of an arse as you like.” Jiyong replies, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He sits down on the bed, feet not quite touching the floor and starts to swing his legs. “The sheets are nice.” He says, stroking the duvet.

 

Seunghyun grunts in response. The sheets are nice. A fancy Egyptian cotton that Eun Hee suggested they get, but the bed dwarfs Jiyong. Sitting there hunched on the covers, fiddling with the buckles on his bag, he looks more like a child than a grown man. Seunghyun hovers awkwardly, unsure of whether or not to help Jiyong unpack until the younger man flashes him a look. Taking that as his cue to leave, he starts to slowly move towards the door.

 

“Right, well.” He clears his throat. “I’ll let you settle in, there’s a spare set of keys on the nightstand. Let me know if you need anything, yeah?” He throws over his shoulder, already opening the door to the rest of his flat.

 

From behind him he hears a soft “thanks”.

 

 

 

 

 

He doesn’t see much of Jiyong over the next couple of days, but boy does he leave his mark on the flat. Stray socks appear everywhere, from sofas to bathroom floors, and there’s a constant layer of crumbs on the kitchen counter tops.

 

One time he finds a pubic hair in the kitchen.

 

“How do you know it isn’t yours?” Eun Hee asks, incredulously, as she glances up from her magazine, greeted with his face of disgust. He just sighs, watching her head slowly look back down into her pages.

 

It would get to him more, how distant she’s been ever since Jiyong moved in, but he’s busy. Days filled up with job interview after job interview and catching up with friends he neglected for his own pity party.

 

One of those friends is Soo Hyuk, who Seunghyun tentatively tells about Jiyong. He barely conceals his shock.

 

 

 

 

 

“You did what?” He asks, almost spitting his drink back into his travel mug.  Dead leaves roll past their feet in the wind, signs that winter’s really on its way.

 

“Not _me._ Eun Hee. I could hardly say no.” Seunghyun replies, knowing how inadequate his excuse sounds.

 

“Are you getting back at me for something? Did I piss you off?” Soo Hyuk asks, the same look of bemusement still on his face. They’ve stopped in the middle of the path, earning dirty looks from the runners who have to dodge them to avoid an accident. Seunghyun prefers their looks to Soo Hyuk’s, currently. “Is this the same thing you’d do since we were kids? I’d piss you off and you’d find the most abstract, convoluted way to get back at me rather than just talk to me about it?”

 

No matter how true it is that he does that sometimes (when he was 13 he turned his final art piece into a dig at Soo Hyuk for kissing a girl he had a crush on), it gets to him nonetheless.

 

“No. And honestly I shouldn’t have to justify this to you.” Seunghyun starts off, feeling his stomach clench into a ball.

 

There’s a split second of silence between the two before Soo Hyuk’s mouth forms a tight line.

 

“When did you turn into such a good Samaritan?” He asks, with the corners of his lips gently turning up.

 

“Please, it’s all Eun Hee. You know I would never offer up my space to anyone.”

 

Soo Hyuk laughs in response, the tension gone. They’re walking again, crunching leaves under their feet as they fall into a comfortable silence.

 

 

 

 

In fact it’s not until the following Saturday when he finally sees Jiyong.

 

He’s not having a great day (or a great month, to be more honest). The job search is getting him nowhere (honestly when did the economic recession become a real thing, and not just something he would read about on the news). Eun Hee cancelled on their dinner plans (their first plans they’d made since _it_ happened) and he has a pounding headache. The 98’ bottle he’d been saving in their wine rack is seeming more and more tempting with every passing second, and he opens the door to his flat with the full intention of passing out on the sofa with a wine glass in hand.

 

But he’s stopped in his tracks. There’s an unwashed cutting board on the kitchen counter top and a pile of dirty dishes by the sink, and this isn’t the first time he’s come home to find Jiyong’s mess. Irritation floods through him. It’s over the top, he knows that, but the knowledge of that isn’t enough to stop him furiously washing up the board, hoping his loud sighs and clangs will be heard by Jiyong.

 

Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, Soo Hyuk’s words echo.

 

_You’d find the most abstract, convoluted way to get back at me rather than just talk to me about it._

He grits his teeth. All he seems to do is let people get away with shit. And maybe he’s angry about the dishes in the sink, maybe he’s angry about the way his life seems to be going down the drain (or maybe he’s still angry about Soo Hyuk stealing his 13 year old crush). But it’s time to change that, he thinks, shaking soap suds from his hands. His whole life people have been telling him to just _talk,_ to tell them when he’s angry.

 

So he walks across his flat, with 20 years worth of anger boiling up in him and poor Jiyong as his target. He doesn’t knock, he’s too angry for that. But as he’s turning the door handle somewhere, in another recess of his mind, he realises he really should have.

 

Jiyong, fresh out of the shower, is standing in nothing but a towel. A towel draped over his shoulders, leaving nipples and moles and everything out in the open.

 

He shouldn’t look down, but he does.

 

Like deer caught in headlights, they both stare at each other, eyes wide in shock. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him; he’s seen another man’s penis before. Seen tonnes of dicks in his life. But his legs wont move and his mind is whirring, searching for something, _anything_ , to say.

 

Jiyong is the first to move, having gotten over the initial shock of Seunghyun bursting into his room fairly quickly. He quickly wraps the towel around his waist, smirking at Seunghyun’s expression.

 

“Can I help you?” He asks. That’s enough to break Seunghyun from his spell, and the look on the younger man’s face gives him the urge to punch him.

 

“Just try and wash up from now on, yeah?” He says, gruffly.

 

Jiyong has the decency to look as embarrassed as Seunghyun feels.

 

“Sorry, forgot how messy I was compared to other people when I was living alone. I’ll try harder.”

 

Drops of water fall from his hair onto the wooden floor boards, something which would normally irritate him but Jiyong is biting his lip and rubbing an anxious hand through his hair.

 

He’s finding it hard to look away.

 

“Would you mind…leaving? I need to get changed.” Jiyong says, a familiar smirk back on his face.

 

“Yeah, sorry. Should’ve knocked.” He says, closing the door behind him.

 

 

 

 

 

Even though she told him not to bother, he waits up for Eun Hee, that night. There’s a couple of glasses of wine in his system and enough in hers too for them to clumsily fumble under the sheets, something they haven’t done in a long time. Afterwards she rolls onto her side, and he watches her back rise and fall as she breaths.

He has to tell himself that he did this because he wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so 2ne1 has disbanded and Seunghyun has an official date for his enlistment...the world should've ended in 2012 like the Mayans said
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> ...where is Park Bom


	5. The wandering man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally updating...look at me go. I'm about as productive as bigbang themselves.

For the next few days everything he sees is phallic shaped. Bananas; _phallic._ His toothbrush; _phallic._ The neighbour’s overweight dachshund; _phallic._ He tries everything he can to clear his mind, from taking up jogging to making his own pasta from scratch. He even tries porn, but after 20 minutes of wanking into a tissue only for _nothing_ to happen really has him considering sectioning himself.

 

At all costs he avoids Jiyong; leaving the house at the crack of dawn, shutting himself in his room when he hears the other man moving about. Maybe it’s all a little dramatic, but he cant imagine looking Jiyong in the eye right now, not when the image of his junk is burned into the back of his brain.

 

He’s still jobless, so all these trips out to avoid Jiyong lead to aimless wandering. He should use this free time to visit galleries and exhibitions, ones that have been on his to-do list for months, but he’s in too big of a funk. The thought of looking at other people’s creations, other people’s success, makes him feel sick right now.

 

So he walks. He walks and he walks and he walks. When he was younger he had a bad habit of running away from school, to the point where his teachers had to take away his shoes in an attempt to stop him going home to his mum. This is kind of what he’s doing now, he acknowledges somewhere in the deep recesses of his brain.  

 

 _But you can’t avoid anything forever_ , his dad drilled into him as a child.

 

His attempts to run away from his problems finally come to a head a full week later (the step counter on his iPhone has never looked better), after Jiyong stumbles loudly into the flat at 4 in the morning. He’s grinding his teeth as he hears the younger man crash about in his room, grinding that turns into a full on clench when he hears another voice in the room next to his.

 

The next morning there’s a familiar pair of shoes in the hallway, and he’s not surprised when Soohyuk walks out of Jiyong’s room with a sheepish grin on his face. The younger man walks out afterwards with a similar face, a towel wrapped around his head and jogging bottoms hanging from his hips.

 

He doesn’t want to be here.  Wants to crawl back into bed with Eun Hee and bury his face in the pillow like an ostrich burying it’s face in the sand.

 

But he just put a croissant in the oven.

 

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Seunghyun.” Jiyong says, rubbing the back of his neck. He unwraps the towel from his head, dropping it to the ground. He picks it up once he takes a look at Seunghyun’s face.

 

“I’ve been busy.” Seunghyun lies through his teeth. The clock’s ticking has never sounded louder in his ears and he has to make a conscious effort to keep his gaze on Jiyong’s face. Soohyuk buts in, making Seunghyun realise he had completely forgotten he was there.

 

“How’s the job search going?” He asks. He means well but that doesn’t stop Seunghyun’s hands from forming fists.

 

“It’s going.” He answers, happy to let the conversation die. The other two men weave their way around him into the kitchen, pulling out boxes of cereal for breakfast.   

 

“What are you doing tonight? Jiyong’s dragging me to his gig.” Soohyuk pipes up again, clearly not as content as Seunghyun is to stand in silence. “Wanna come keep me company? Kyungil and Dong Hwi are coming too.”

 

He’s about to say no, because honestly that’s the last thing he feels like doing right now. But he can’t ignore the way Jiyong’s face fell at Soohyuk’s words.

 

For some reason he feels responsible for rectifying it.

 

“I’d love to.” He says. Hopefully the smile on his face doesn’t look too much like a grimace.

 

 

 

 

 

It’s a seedy bar; sticky floors and smoke machines and tall men hanging in dark corners with pockets stashed full of pills he’s never heard of. It’s the kind of place he and Soohyuk would hang out before they went off to University, back when all he had to worry about was sneaking past his mum’s bedroom at 5 in the morning.

 

He feels out of place now, in a jumper and suede loafers. His friends are already buzzing before Jiyong and the rest step onto the stage, dancing around Seunghyun with red eyes and beads of sweat on their foreheads. It’s the kind of night Eun Hee would hate, and his mind wanders thinking about her. They’ve been alright, recently, and he’s not willing to fuck that up by getting wrecked.

 

Typically though, it doesn’t take long before Dong Hwi is chanting “we like to drink with Seunghyun” and he’s downing his vodka in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

 

So it’s no surprise that he’s also buzzing by the time Jiyong picks up the mic, the vodka in his veins making him feel more alive than he has in weeks. Jiyong’s hair is dyed green in preparation for the gig; a bit overkill if you ask Seunghyun, but it _works._ Long strands of hair hang over his eyes and complement the mesh shirt (with just a hint of nipple). He’s everything Seunhyun isn’t; _adventurous,_ and he’s so entranced by Jiyong’s appearance that he nearly drops his drink when Soohyuk nudges him.

 

“Wanna go out for a fag?” He shouts over the music.

 

“They’re just starting.” He points out to Soohyuk, watching Youngbae take the mic from Jiyong. Dreadlocks lie on top of his head and there’s a toothpick in his mouth, and so many other things that Seunghyun hasn’t even begun to dissect before Seungri is now speaking into the mic. He speaks with so much energy that Seunghyun would be lying if he said it didn’t remind him of the time he tried speed.

 

“Hello! We’re Dirty Cash, here to entertain you tonight!” The mic rings as Jiyong fiddles with controls on the amp. They have a new name, he briefly acknowledges, before Daesung hits his drumsticks together to count them in.

 

Maybe it’s the alcohol talking but they’re _good,_ Seunghyun thinks. Like, _captivatingly good._ Gradually he starts to loosen up, letting Kyungil take him by the shoulders and force him into movement. They’re dancing to songs they’ve never heard of before, spilling drinks on their jeans and knocking into strangers. The bar is fairly packed (Seungri’s wide circle of friends, he learns later) and everyone’s just as buzzing.

 

He doesn’t give a shit.

 

After the set Soohyuk drags him outside for the cigarette he was craving. The fresh air hits him like a train and his heart gradually slows down.

 

“You’re having fun.” Soohyuk says, eyeing him as he grinds a cigarette butt into the ground with his boot. Seunghyun shrugs in response.

 

“They’re good, surprisingly good.”

 

“You’re surprised?” Jiyong asks from behind him. The air is thick with smoke but Jiyong’s bright hair cuts through it. There’s a  playful smile on his face and a drink in his hand as he leans up against the brick wall, pulling the cigarette from Soohyuk’s hand and putting it between his own lips. Seunghyun is about to speak, but Soohyuk’s gaze is hot on the back of his head and he shuts his mouth.

 

“You wanna leave soon, come back to mine?” Soohyuk asks, angling his body towards Jiyong. His voice is quiet and clearly not meant for Seunghyun to hear, but there’s over half a cigarette in his hand so he’ll be damned if he’s leaving.

 

“Sure, just let me finish this drink.”

 

“I’ll be inside. See you soon Hyunnie, you free tomorrow?” Soohyuk asks, bringing Seunghyun into a hug. Seunghyun gives a noncommittal grunt in reply, which his friend takes as a yes. “Great, I’ll text you.”

 

Then he’s gone and it’s just him and Jiyong. Him, Jiyong and a cloud of smoke between them.

 

“So…you two are a thing again?” He asks, scuffing his feet on the floor. It’s cobbled flooring, making his feet ache through the thin soles of his shoes. This is the first time he notices Jiyong’s shoes; velvet Chelsea boots that look more expensive than the little man can afford right now. Jiyong notices him staring at them.

 

“A gift from someone.”

 

“A client?” Seunghyun asks before he can bite his tongue.

 

A wry smile appears on Jiyong’s face.

 

“Yes. Some of them have a thing for gifts.”

 

“Sugar daddies. You have a sugar daddy.” Seunghyun says, laughing. He’s doubled over with laughter and soon Jiyong is joining him. People start to stare at them, leaning onto the wall to catch their breath. “You didn’t answer my question.” He says eventually through heavy breaths.

 

There’s a long pause.

 

“I guess so. I’m not sure. I have a nasty habit of going back to people.” Jiyong replies. “More importantly, what’s going on with you? I live with you but I have no idea what’s going on inside your head.

 

“Does anyone know what’s going on inside that head?”

 

Another long pause.

 

“I don’t know, to be honest.” He finally answers, running a hand through his hair. “I thought I had everything together, but recently it’s been feeling like I’m so far from having it together. And I have no idea what’s happened. Or how to stop this.”

 

“You don’t have to have everything figured out, Hyunnie. And fuck people who say you do.”

 

Seunghyun goes to protest that, but Jiyong interrupts him.

 

“Look at me, an absolute mess. I’m a part time escort, part time guitarist. Part time bum, as my family would say. But that’s fine! I’m 23, I’m allowed to be a mess.”

 

He just sighs in response, so Jiyong carries on.

 

“You’re free tomorrow, right?” He doesn’t let Seunghyun answer. “I’ve got something planned, and you’re coming whether you like it or not.”

 

With that he stubs out his cigarette, spinning on his heels and walking back into the bar before Seunghyun can think of an acceptable excuse. He’s left outside by himself and ends up smoking another cigarette down to the filter, fixing his gaze on the cobbled ground.

 

Eun Hee is fast asleep when he gets home and he hops in the shower, trying to wash off the smell of alcohol, smoke and sweat. The water is so hot that his skin is red when he steps out, and he wraps a soft towel around his body. The mirror has steamed up but he rubs at it with his towel until his face is visible.

 

 _How is this me?_ He wonders, staring into a face that doesn’t seem any different, but one that he cant seem to recognise any more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jiyong and Soohyuk arrive at 10am the next morning, before he’s managed to even have a coffee.

 

“You’re still in your pyjamas?” Soohyuk asks incredulously after Seunghyun opens the door to let them in.

 

“Good morning to you too. And yes, that’s what unemployment does to a man.”  He replies, walking them into the lounge. “What’s the plan for today?”

 

“Jiyong has it all planned out.” Soohyuk answers, gesturing to Jiyong who hasn’t spoken yet.

 

“So I’m third wheeling?”

 

There’s silence.

 

“I’ll go ask Eun Hee to join.”

 

Eun Hee says yes, and in 33 minutes he’s clean, dressed and ready to step out of the door. He walks a bit behind the three of them, watching Eun Hee catch them up on her life. Her voice is soft, and even after all these years together he still gets lost in it. Still marvels at the way she can charm anyone, make a conversation her own. Slowly Jiyong drops back to join him and they walk side by side in silence, a silence only punctuated by the sound of dead leaves crunching under their feet.   

 

He’s completely lost in his thoughts, and before he knows it they’re in front of their destination.

 

“The national gallery? Jiyong we’ve done this to death.” Soohyuk pipes up. They’re standing in a circle, tourists weaving around them. The fountain in the middle of the square captures his attention and he zones out, letting them argue, only coming back to the conversation when he hears his own name.

 

“Ok, ok. You guys go wait in a café whilst I take Seunghyun inside. Then we can do more fun things.” Jiyong says, throwing his hands in the air.

 

“Huh? Why me?” Seunghyun asks, confused.

 

“There’s something I want to show you, then we can leave.”

 

“But I’ve seen all the paintings here. Three times.”

 

There’s a collective sigh from the group.

 

“I don’t care. Come on.” Jiyong says forcefully, and then they’re waving Eun Hee and Soohyuk goodbye and heading into the gigantic building in front of it. “Art galleries smell nice, don’t they?” Jiyong asks, once they step foot into the gallery. Their footsteps are loud on the wood flooring but are soon drowned out by all the people milling about in the entrance. Seunghyun mumbles in response, still confused as to why Jiyong dragged him here whilst Eun Hee and Soohyuk get to sit down and drink coffee.

 

Jiyong makes his way through the rooms determinedly, almost as if he’s mapped out the entire building. Slowly Seunghyun follows, unable to resist looking at some of his favourite paintings. Eventually the purpose of their visit becomes clear, when Jiyong draws to a halt. They’re standing in front of one of the first paintings he ever cared about.

 

Van Gogh’s sunflowers. It was the muted tones of the fourth version that first got him captivated by art, as a 14 year old in his Art GCSE class. He was going through some shit at the time, and it was this painting that first taught him the concept of art as a form of therapy, offering him a sense of calm that his little mind has never been able to achieve before. But he’s not a 14 year old GCSE student anymore, and he still can’t understand why Jiyong dragged him here.

 

“I’ve seen this a million times. I’ve written about it a million times. I see it on posters and mugs. Why are we here?” He can’t keep the exasperation out of his voice, turning away from the painting to face Jiyong.

 

“Do I really have to give you a history lesson?” Jiyong asks, a single eyebrow raised. Seunghyun simply frowns. “No one gave a shit about his paintings. No one really gave a shit about him, period. If he was alive today we would probably say he was a bit of a mess and pump him full of medication. But he still painted, Seunghyun. He didn’t care about convention, he did what he did because he thought it was beautiful.

 

“You’re in a slump, that’s understandable. Everything was going great and now you’re unemployed and living off your girlfriend.”

 

“Hey-“ Seunghyun tries to interrupt.

 

“But you’ve gotta get out of it. Stop looking for jobs you won’t enjoy and just live a little. Be a mess, create things, do _anything.”_

There’s silence between the two as Seunghyun ingests his words.

 

“This is very dramatic. I’m hardly Van Gogh.”

 

“I’m a struggling artist, my whole life is dramatic.” Jiyong replies, turning to leave. “You coming?”

 

 

 

 

They join the others again, sitting in a crowded Starbucks just off the square.

 

“What did he have to show you?” Eun Hee asks, making room for him at the table.

 

“Just a painting. I’d already seen it a million times, though.” He answers with a laugh.

 

“Still, nice of him.” Eun Hee replies, taking hold of his hand under the table. “We were just talking about an event I have coming up, Soohyuk and Jiyong will come along too so you don’t have to worry about following me around like a lost puppy the whole night.”

 

She leans in to kiss him on the cheek and he offers her a tight smile in return.

 

 

 

 

That night, as he’s turning off the lights in the lounge about to go bed, Jiyong comes out of his room.

 

“By this time tomorrow I hope to see you with one less ear.” He says with a crooked smile.   

 

It’s no coincidence his dreams that night are filled of strange men wandering through fields.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as the bible says - 'support 2ne1's final song with all your heart'


	6. Thelma and Louise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Amazing. Inconsistency is my middle name.

Five hours. He manages to lie in bed for five hours before getting up. It’s 2 in the afternoon, with the sun already starting to fade by the time he stretches his legs out of bed.

 

Jiyong moved out into Soohyuk’s flat, soon after their conversation in the gallery. He happily told both of them they were making a mistake, but neither listened to him, saying that ‘you had to give things a chance, Seunghyun’. After having a shower and picking the sleep from his eyes he eventually starts the day, deciding to finally get round to moving the blank canvases back in to the spare room. They’d previously lined the hallway, almost taunting him every time he left the flat.

 

He stands in the empty room, unsure of what to do next. The flat feels empty and quiet, and the feeling in his body mirrors that.

 

His phone buzzes.

 

Jiyong: “Paint!”

 

He grunts, pressing the button on his phone to turn his screen back to black. That boy always seems to turn up when Seunghyun least wants him to.

 

He ignores the spare room for the next few days, leaving the canvases trapped inside along with Jiyong’s words that he’s tried so hard to bury and carrying on looking for jobs. Every time he comes back to the flat, each time more defeated than the last, he thinks of Jiyong’s words. Thinks of the spare room and the empty canvases inside of it.

 

He’s going insane.

 

 

 

 

 

Insomnia was something he’d dealt with sporadically over the course of his life. He’s not sure why or when it started, but sometimes he can’t switch off his brain. There have been several nights where he would happily scratch out his eyes if it meant a moment of piece and quiet from his thoughts.

 

Usually he self medicates; alcohol being his best friend at 2 in the morning. For some reason though, this night is different. His beer isn’t making him relax, isn’t quietening the voices in his head.

 

It’s just making him gassy.

 

It certainly doesn’t help knowing that when he wakes up, if he even gets to sleep in the first place, he’s just going to do this all again. A routine of nothing.

 

There’s a cigarette between his lips, burning down to the filter, as he watches cars and people move about on the streets below. It’s strange, he thinks, how you can feel entirely static, but life will still carry on around you. He was 8 when his Grandma died. He doesn’t remember feeling sad, they weren’t that close, but he does remember the shock. The shock that life just goes on, that the clocks don’t stop and wait for you.

 

He doesn’t like the night time, for that. The idea that you can be fast asleep but people keep moving, the world keeps spinning. Life goes on even without your participation.

 

During the twilight hours his mind seems to wander the most, and he smacks the side of his head to get rid of these thoughts.

 

It’s his last cigarette, and after stubbing it out he downs the last of his beer, giving up on drinking himself into oblivion. There’s nothing on TV, and after sitting in silence for a while he finally decides to text the one person he knows will be up at this time of night.

 

Seunghyun: “I can’t sleep.”

 

Immediately after sending it he regrets it. What is he, 15 and sending angsty messages for attention? He doesn’t have time to dwell on the regret though, receiving a reply straight away.

 

Jiyong: “Me neither. Trying to write a song but I’m stuck.”

 

Whilst they were living together, he would often wake up in the middle of the night to hear Jiyong moving about, often plucking strings on his guitar and singing softly. When he asked him about it the younger man said he preferred staying up late, that that’s when he was most creative. He said it felt like no one was looking at night, that he could do whatever he wanted.

 

He feels a little intrusive, messaging him at night, but he carries on anyway.

 

Seunghyun: “What’s it about?”

 

Jiyong: “Nothing at the moment. I’m really stuck.”

 

Jiyong: “Give me some inspiration.”

 

Jiyong: “Tell me some breakup stories.”

 

Seunghyun: “I’ve never broken up with anyone.”

 

Jiyong: “Figures.”

 

Seunghyun: “????”

 

Jiyong: “You’re too good looking to break up with.”

 

Jiyong: “I’m going to get back to writing. Sleep well.”

 

And then that’s it, the conversation’s over. Seunghyun is glad it’s dark so he doesn’t have to face up to the blush that’s just crept up his cheeks.

 

 

 

 

 

The next few nights are no different. If possible, he’s even more tired. And he really, _really_ just wants to sleep.

 

Seunghyun: “Still can’t sleep.”

 

Jiyong: “Fine. I’ll indulge you. What’s up?”

 

Seunghyun can hear his sigh through the text.

 

Seunghyun: “I don’t know.”

 

Seunghyun: “Kinda just wanna give up on everything.”

 

Seunghyun: “I’m being dramatic.”

 

Jiyong: “You wanna go for a drive?”

 

Jiyong: “It’s 3 am. Streets will be quiet.”

 

He takes a while to weigh up the options, staring down at Jiyong’s last text. It is 3 am. And the streets will be quiet.

 

But there’s also a small voice in the back of his head that says _what are you doing._ A small voice that says get back into bed, stop acting like an angsty teenager in a coming of age film.

 

Before that voice can get any louder though, his phone buzzes again.

 

Jiyong: I’m picking you up in 10.

 

And true to his words, Jiyong rolls up in Soohyuk’s dented Polo in little over ten minutes. Seunghyun is still in his pyjamas and slippers when he hops into the car, and Jiyong raises his eyebrows whilst passing over a cigarette.

 

“New pyjamas.” He says, with a small smile on his face. “I’ll never understand your love for pyjamas, though.”

 

“Well what do you sleep in?” Seunghyun hits back, mildly offended.

 

“Chanel no. 5, baby.” Jiyong says with a laugh.

 

“Where are we going then, Marilyn?”

 

“Marilyn? Please. Tonight we’re Thelma and Louise. I’m Thelma.” Jiyong replies, pointedly ignoring Seunghyun’s last question. He starts the ignition and pulls the car out onto the streets. He was right, it’s the dead of night and the only company they have is the orange glow from the streetlights above. A fox trots out in front of the car and the car skids as Jiyong narrowly avoids it. That’s the last thing Seunghyun remembers before he drifts off to sleep.

 

When he wakes up they’re at the edge of a field, underneath a pitch black night sky. Jiyong’s voice is in his ear, moaning how he’s like a child and that this has been the most boring road trip of his life.

 

After regaining his senses and stepping out of the car, he realises he still has a cigarette clutched between his fingers. He lights it up, turning his head upwards to look at the stars.

 

“What are we doing here? And where are we?” He asks, as Jiyong comes to stand next to him, head also tilted upwards. Moonlight illuminates his features, makes his eyes shine.

 

“Tsk. Stop asking so many questions. Why do you have to know everything?” He chides.

 

Seunghyun shrugs.

 

“Calms me down.”

 

He’s not lying. Jiyong looks at him softer, now.

 

“We’re just past Epping forest, not too far out. But I’m afraid I can’t answer your second question. We’re not really here for a reason. Not everything has to be for a reason.” With the last sentence he looks at him pointedly.

 

They both sit on the grass, damp from condensation but neither of them really care.

 

“What’s up?” Jiyong asks, and before he knows it he’s spilling everything. Things he wasn’t even aware of before this moment. Jiyong was right about the night time; it’s much easier to be honest in the dark. Once everything is off his chest, they sit in silence. Seunghyun is hugging his knees into his chest, while Jiyong lies stretched out on the ground; complete opposites.

 

“Are you not going to give me advice?” He asks, mostly to break the silence.

 

“I’ve already told you what I think.” Jiyong answers, dismissing him. “Are you bored?”

 

He doesn’t give Seunghyun time to answer.  

 

“Well, I think I can solve both of our problems.”

 

He didn’t know Jiyong had a problem.

 

“Since you failed to give me inspiration the other night, and I have happily taken us on a fantastic road trip. I have a feeling that you owe me one.”

 

Seunghyun is speechless.

 

“Jesus, don’t panic. I didn’t drive you all the way out here to ask for sexual favours.”

 

“No, I didn’t-“ Seunghyun tries to protest, but stops once he sees Jiyong laughing.

 

“You’re gonna draw me.” Jiyong then says, determinedly. “And don’t give me shit about how you can’t draw, you did an art degree for fuck’s sake.”

 

“Why do you want me to draw you, though? And what will I draw you with?”

 

“More questions! Who doesn’t want to be drawn? And I have paper in the car, was going to use it to write some lyrics but I’m still coming up blank.”

 

 

 

 

 

The sun is starting to rise by the time he finishes, and he almost wishes he hadn’t. Jiyong looks different in the daylight, he realises. Smaller, softer. His hair less red since he last saw him and his under eye bags have become more pronounced. The younger man drifted off to sleep a while ago, and Seunghyun was left with only the scratch of his pencil against paper.

 

It was a long time since he last drew anything, and coincidentally he can’t remember feeling this calm in an equally long time. He also doesn’t remember seeing Jiyong look this peaceful before, and as much as he hates to disturb him, it’s already 6am.

 

Eun Hee wakes up at 7:30, if he’s not back by then there will be questions, phone calls from his mum and worried glances when they think he’s not looking.

 

“I’m done.” He says, clearing his throat after not speaking for a while. Jiyong stirs, rubbing his hands against his eyes.

 

“Amazing.” Jiyong says softly, holding the sketchbook with both hands. It is good, Seunghyun has to admit.

 

“Why did you take me to a field?” He asks, still not content with the unknown. He stands up to brush the dirt off of his bum.

 

“Did it for me, really. I like fields. They’re empty, uncluttered. Gives me space to put my thoughts.” Jiyong answers, stretching out on the grass. “You just happened to tag along.”

 

 

 

 

After that it’s like he’s caught a bug. He finds himself frequently thinking back to the way Jiyong looked on that field, like the sun rose for him. With nothing else to do he starts to draw again, rehashing his sketch from the night before over and over again. Eun Hee leans over his shoulder one night, curious to see what has finally gotten him from his gloominess.

 

“Oh! You’re drawing again.” She says, genuinely happy. “Draw me?” She asks after a pause, with a light smile playing on her lips. This is the first time in a while she’s been this engaged with him, so he humours her. Draws her the way he sees her, with long lines and sharp angles.

 

She’s delighted when she sees it.

 

“Why don’t you start painting again? Now you have the time.”

 

It’s not meant to be a dig, not at all. But it still makes him wince.

 

She catches his face, and hurries to rectify the situation.

 

“I don’t mean it like that. I know how hard you’re looking for a new job. Maybe it would be a good idea just to take some time off looking? Really figure out what you want.

 

“I know you haven’t been sleeping well. That always happens when you’re stressed. But there’s no need to be this stressed, ok?

 

“It’s not like we’re on the breadline. You can afford to take some time out, Hyunnie.”

 

Her hand is on his, still clutching his pencil.

 

If he was asked to explain what happened next, he wouldn’t be able to in a million years. Maybe it was the stress he’d been under, maybe it was just sheer lack of sleep. But as soon as Eun Hee stops speaking, looking up at him with doe eyes, hot tears start pricking at his eyes. As if the floodgates have opened, soon they’re rolling down his cheeks and he’s sobbing violently. The weight of her arm around his back helps to sober him up, and slowly his sobs subside into sniffles.

 

“I’ll try.” He says between breaths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and the comments! Means a lot ~~~


	7. The Creation of Adam

He listens to her. Or at least he tries to. There’s something awful about waking up every day to do nothing.

 

Sometimes makes him wonder why he wakes up at all, he thinks, staring at an empty ceiling with a mind equally as empty. Amazing how Michelangelo painted the Sistine Chapel’s ceiling 60 ft off the ground and yet he can barely be bothered to move the 3 ft between his bed and the bathroom.

 

Staring at empty canvases is getting him nowhere, he finally concedes to himself, and in desperation he tries life drawing. It takes a lot of courage (and a couple of shots of whisky) to get him in the studio, but one he’s sat there with a paintbrush in hand and the soft conversations of other artists in his ear he doesn’t feel too bad. That is until the model walks in. He’s a lean man with fluid movements, and initially it’s fine. The robe drops to the floor and he takes his place on the chair as the conversation dies down. It’s still fine, and he has a half decent drawing coming along until he realises he’s not drawing the model.

 

He’s been drawing Jiyong.

 

He goes home after that ill-fated experiment and buries his face in the pillow, with the not-so-subconscious hope of slowly suffocating to death. He can’t quite process what happened, and if he weren’t so depressed this would probably lead to quite the identity crisis.

 

But who has the effort for that.  

 

Unintentionally he falls asleep, and awakes a few hours later still llying face down on his bed. His phone is ringing, vibrating from somewhere underneath his body, and he ignores it. Instead focusing on the way his body makes the mattress dip down underneath his weight (it never used to be this much). But things don’t go away just because you ignore them, and the phone continues to vibrate for a few solid minutes. Sighing loudly, he drags his phone out and slides the screen to answer it. Soohyuk’s voice is on the other end. Drinks, just them, _bonding time_ , is why he’s ringing. _Fine,_ Seunghyun grunts in response.

 

Face still pressed against the fabric of the pillow, he groans. The pillow is damp from his drool, and he realises that this must _really_ be a low point.

 

 

 

 

 

Looking like a Greek God, Soohyuk saunters towards him. Seunghyun on the other hand is hunched over his pint of beer, a deep set frown on his forehead. He chose a sports bar to meet in, hoping for a rowdy night, but is quickly regretting it. He’s not in the mood for any kind of night. His own looks are a little more dishevelled than Soohyuk’s, he’ll admit that. But he doesn’t expect Soohyuk’s brutal honesty to slap him in the face.

 

“You look like shit, mate.” He says, with a laugh. Seunghyun doesn’t return the laugh. Seeing his friend’s face, Soohyuk sighs. “It’s gonna be that kinda night is it?”

 

Irritation floods through him, this hasn’t just been a _night._ It’s been a fucking eternity. But he’s also aware that  he runs the risk of becoming a drag, and makes a conscious effort to let that one slide.  

 

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” He says, unconvincing even to his own ears. More beer spills into his mouth and he didn’t even realise he was raising his glass. Wrinkles form on Soohyuk’s forehead (well, the few that made it through Harley Street’s Botox technicians) as he raises an eyebrow, but if he has anything to say he doesn’t let on. Instead he slides onto the barstool next to Seunghyun and signals to the barman. 

 

They’re having a _catch-up,_ Soohyuk says. And they do catch up; by the time they’re onto their third pints Seunghyun has heard all about the trail of mess Jiyong leaves in his wake all over Soohyuk’s flat, the new intern at Soohyuk’s work that keeps making moony eyes at him and his dad’s insistence that Will Ferrell follows him on twitter (Will Ferrell doesn’t have a twitter). Tongue loosened by alcohol, Seunghyun spares Soohyuk no details on everything from his disappointing sex life to his painful attempts at life drawing (Soohyuk suggests life _modelling_ as his next adventure).

 

“I don’t know what to do.” He sighs loudly, staring at the bubbles in his beer.

 

“Maybe you just need something to work towards. Go back to uni, do a masters.” Soohyuk suggests. A little burp comes along with it, but despite all the alcohol in his friend’s system, it’s not the worst idea he’s ever heard. 

 

He doesn’t remember much after that, but he’s pretty sure it was drunk and rowdy. A vague memory of getting dragged out of the bar by Soohyuk comes to mind as he wakes up, and he makes a note to apologise for anything and everything once he’s dealt with his pounding headache and sandpaper mouth.

 

A masters is a good idea, he thinks, staring at his ceiling once again. A genuinely good idea. But he’d need a portfolio, first. A portfolio that requires creativity and hard work.

 

One step forward, two steps back. Burying his body back underneath his duvet, though, he makes another mental note to give it a go.  

 

 

 

 

 

His fancy new art supplies cost a fortune and he winces as the total price comes up on the till, realising he has to dig into some of the money Eun Hee lent him.

 

But art doesn’t care how much money you put in, apparently. And instead of staring at empty canvases, now he’s staring at empty sketchbooks with unused, expensive pencils in his hand.

 

What he needs is inspiration. So he tries everything. He goes for walks in the park, looks through his old A level art work (nearly dying of second hand embarrassment in the process), and stares. Stares at everything.

 

It’s hard not to let his mind wander, but that isn’t the problem. The problem is that whenever it wanders he finds it going back to the same thing. Eventually he concedes that he’s had inspiration for a while now, and he needs to stop pushing it away.

 

And if the first thing in his portfolio is inspired by Jiyong sitting under the stars on a field with grass taller than their shins, then so be it.

 

 

 

 

 

It’s been a while since Seunghyun has seen his new muse (he took a long hard look in the mirror and admitted that yes, Jiyong is indeed his _muse._ Not that he’ll ever admit it out loud); he’s still struggling to develop his portfolio, and when he’s focused on something socialising tends to fall at the wayside.

 

But, as is typical of Jiyong, he always turns up whenever it seems least convenient for Seunghyun. This time he’s at an event supporting Eun Hee, with a glass of champagne in one hand and the sound of soft jazz in his ears. She’s getting ready to make a speech, shuffling through her notes and clearing her throat softly, when his phone buzzes.

 

Jiyong: “I needd help.”

 

He’s drunk.

 

Seunghyun: “Clearly. I have the number of a brilliant therapist.”

 

He sends back, then slipping his phone into his pocket. After turning his attention back to the stage, he feels three vibrations in quick succession and slips his phone out again with a sigh. Several people side eye him, so he keeps his phone down low as he reads the messages.

 

Jiyong: “No, I mean like _help_ help.”

 

Jiyong: “I’m drunk too drunk with a client. I neeed yo u to come get me.”

 

Jiyong: “Don’t wanan go home with him.”

 

Seunghyun’s lips purse involuntarily. Eun Hee steps up to the microphone at the other side of the room as he stares into his champagne glass, still half full. Bubbles rise to the top with the same velocity as the thoughts going around in his head.

 

Jiyong: “Please.”

 

Teeth meet his lower lip as he works out a course of action, unwilling to deal with any confrontation that may come from telling Eun Hee what he has to go do. It’s not that she’d mind, it’s more that he’d have to explain that Jiyong is an escort. An escort who’s welfare Seunghyun feels a strange amount of responsibility for.

 

At Seunghyun’s request, Jiyong drops a pin to send his location. Seunghyun lets out another audible sigh, this time in relief, as the bar comes up as a ten minute walk away. He can go and get back without anyone noticing he was gone.

 

 

 

 

 

Clearly Jiyong’s client has an expensive taste, he realises as he reaches the bar. He’s panting lightly after jogging, and pulls out a handkerchief to dab at his sweat. Thankfully by some twist of fate he’s dressed smart enough, and the concierge (yes, _concierge)_ lets him in without a problem. He spots Jiyong in no time, his bright green hair making him stand out like a sore thumb. The other man has his back turned towards him, so Seunghyun gets a good look at his client whilst making his way over to their booth. It’s private and secluded, and the client has a look on his face that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

 

As he moves closer he catches bits of their conversation. Jiyong sounds even drunker than his texts, and the client sounds like he knows full well just how drunk the other man is.

 

“Ji.” Seunghyun says, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. He had come here with the full intention to get in and get out as fast as possible, to slide back into his girlfriend’s event seamlessly. That doesn’t look lightly, as Jiyong sways under his touch.

 

“Seunghyun! You’re here.” He says, with a sloppu smile. There’s a new tattoo on the back of his neck, the wings stretching out to the beginning of his jawline. The client’s own jaw clenches, clearly not welcoming Seunghyun’s intrusion.

  
“Who is this?” He asks Jiyong, looking at Seunghyun pointedly.

 

“This? This is Seung-“

 

“I’m his boyfriend.” Seunghyun jumps in. In all honesty, it just comes out. An impulse that comes from an instinct to protect Jiyong. Something that shocks him, when he comes to think about it later on. He’s doesn’t remember feeling this instinctively before.

 

Jiyong looks as surprised as the client, so Seunghyun squeezes his shoulder tightly.

 

“We should probably go. Jiyong looks like he’s drunk a bit too much.” He says, and the client looks affronted. “I’ll make sure you get your money back.” He promises, to placate him.

 

Practically hoisting Jiyong out of his seat, they both murmur goodbyes to the client and slowly stagger away from the table.

 

“My boyfriend?” Jiyong whispers with a giggle. His arm is tucked into Seunghyun’s and most of his weight hangs on Seunghyun’s body.

 

“Shut up.” Seunghyun answers. Cold air hits them as they get outside, and Seunghyun immediately pulls out his phone to order an über for Jiyong. There’s a text from Eun Hee on the screen asking where he’s gone, and he sighs in frustration.

 

“Why couldn’t you ask someone else to come?” He mutters to Jiyong, running a hand through his hair. The other man just giggles, fumbling around to pull out a cigarette from its box. After watching him struggle for a while, Seunghyun lets out yet another sigh.

 

“Here.” He says, pulling out the cigarette for Jiyong. Jiyong sways on the spot as a hiccup escapes his lips. Sliding the cigarette in between the other man’s lips for him, Seunghyun eyes him carefully.

 

“What does Soohyuk think you’re up to tonight?” He asks, not really expecting anything intelligible in response. He was right; all Jiyong can do is shake his head dramatically.

 

“When did you become so judgey?” Leaning into the brick wall, Jiyong asks with a pout.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Probably for the best as he’s still in half a mind to throttle him, he doesn’t hear from Jiyong for a few days after that. Understandably once he got back to the gallery after making sure Jiyong was safely tucked into an über, he received an earful from Eun Hee. An earful that he’s very determined to blame on Jiyong. 

 

There’s a lot he doesn’t really know how to process, at the moment, and he falls into a habit of isolating himself. Unfortunately for him, though, he has friends that will force themselves into his self-imposed solitude.

 

This time it’s Donghwi, who turns up at his flat unannounced despite knowing full well how much Seunghyun dislikes that. He makes himself at home quickly, flopping down onto the sofa and kicking both shoes off. The conversation flows normally until his friend witnesses Eun Hee’s frosty goodbye to him.

 

“Yikes.” He whispers. The front door shuts with a loud bang, he carries on louder. “What’s going on there?”

 

“Just an argument.” Seunghyun says, trying to shut the conversation down. Donghwi doesn’t give up so easily, though.

 

“I can see, what about?”

 

There’s a long pause. On the one hand Seunghyun is dying to finally get this secret of his chest and shift the burden onto someone else. But on the other hand if he does tell someone that Jiyong’s an escort in his spare time it should probably be Soohyuk, his best friend and…Jiyong’s boyfriend.

 

“Ok…but you can’t tell anyone.” He says slowly. Donghwi’s face lights up in excitement.

 

Neither of them were ever very good in exercising self restraint.  

 

 

 

 

 

“Don’t you think you should tell Soohyuk?” Donghwi asks, after listening to Seunghyun’s story (a story that began many months ago). This isn’t what Seunghyun wanted to hear, and he bites his lip.

 

“I don’t know how. Hasn’t the time for that passed?” He asks, folding his knees into his chest.

 

“Seunghyun, his boyfriend is a hooker.”

 

“He’s an escort.” Seunghyun hits back.

 

“I’m failing to see the difference, here.” Donghwi counters. A small voice belonging to Jiyong reminds him exactly what the difference between an escort and a hooker is, but Seunghyun isn’t getting into that with anyone, let alone Donghwi. “Tell him.”  

 

He doesn’t know when his friend popping pills in toilet stalls to being an advocate for truth and justice, but gives a non-committal grunt to get him off his back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whilst Seunghyun is off fighting communism and dictatorships I will do my best to keep updating. I keep telling myself I'm too busy and don't have enough time for anything, but in reality I procrastinate anyway. Might as well procrastinate in a way that's sort of productive?


	8. Chapter 8

Some days Seunghyun dreams of buying his own private island, isolating himself for the rest of his days. Hermit crabs are lucky, he thinks. They can just slink away into there shell whenever they encounter the mildest of inconveniences. He envies them, and no more so than today.

 

“I can’t believe it.” Soohyuk says down the phone, for what feels like the tenth time that day.

 

“Me neither.” He replies, for what also feels like the tenth time that day. Each reply getting more and more distracted.

 

“Can I come over? That fucker’s shit is still in my flat.”

 

Lifting the phone away from his face, Seunghyun lets out a sigh. He doesn’t want to deal with Soohyuk’s broken heart (that he’ll likely recover from in a couple of days like he always does), but sadly it comes part and parcel with having friends.

 

And Seunghyun likes having friends. Mostly.

 

“Sure.” He finally answers, trying hard to keep the reluctance out of his voice. Soohyuk hangs up the phone and Seunghyun figures he has about 20 minutes to make the place look presentable. Art supplies are littered everywhere, along with the remains of most of his meals for the week. Eun Hee went away for work, and in her absence the flat has fallen into disarray. It takes him the full 20 minutes to tidy up, and even then it’s still a mess. The doorbell rings, and he ‘s just about to buzz Soohyuk up when he remembers his sketchbook left open on the kitchen table. He quickly closes it, shoving it underneath a stack of newspapers.

 

His current work is a sketch inspired by the archangel tattoo on Jiyong’s neck. He’s not ashamed of it, he’s just always found it prudent to avoid unnecessary questions. And Soohyuk seeing his ex-boyfriend’s tattoo in his best friend’s sketch book certainly would lead to questions. Soohyuk makes his way into the flat as Seunghyun wonders why he bothered tidying up in the first place; his friend flops onto the sofa and presses his face into the fabric without a single glance around the flat. Seunghyun hovers, unsure what to do or how to comfort his friend, until the silence becomes palpable. (Un)Thankfully, Soohyuk breaks the silence with a soft wail.

 

“I can’t believe he was the one to break up with me.” It’s muffled, and Seunghyun has to strain his ears to make out what his friend says. He sits  down on an armchair opposite the sofa, a new piece that Eun Hee bought a few weeks ago, and feels uncomfortably like he’s conducting a therapy session.

 

“Don’t get me wrong, I am sad for you. But it sounds like you’re more upset with the fact that you didn’t get to break up with him, rather than the fact that you actually, you know, broke up?” He says, tentatively. Soohyuk raises his head, but only to shoot him a glare. “Did he at least say why?”

 

When Soohyuk told him earlier that day Seunghyun had had a hard time believing him. Granted, he had been stuck in his own world for the past month, but he would never for a second have thought that Jiyong, and not Soohyuk, would be the one to break it off. The same Jiyong who sobbed in his flat after being cheated on, who never seemed capable of hurting a butterfly.

 

“He said he’d started having feelings for someone else. Said he didn’t think it was fair on me to stay in a relationship when he’s thinking about someone else.” Soohyuk answers. He rolls his body over to lie flat on his back. Keeping his eyes fixed on the ceiling, he lets out a sigh big enough to contend with some of Seunghyun’s own. “My money’s on Seungri, to be honest.”

 

“The blonde prick in Jiyong’s band.” He adds, after Seunghyun’s expression stays blank. “Listen, if I bring his stuff over here can you let him know to pick it up? We ended badly and I think if I see him again I might punch him. There isn’t much stuff.”

 

“No problem.” Seunghyun replies. “Anything to help a friend out.”

 

Surprisingly  Jiyong never told him about having feelings for someone else, even though he annoyingly became both Soohyuk’s and Jiyong’s first port of call for their relationship problems. Soohyuk’s moaning carries on, not caring that he doesn’t get a response from Seunghyun who is lost inside his own thoughts. Eventually, though, he gives up. Accepting that Seunghyun isn’t going to pander to him this evening, he lets out one more sigh.

 

“Well, thanks for your support.” With a voice laced with sarcasm, he says, standing up from the sofa and brushing out the wrinkles in his clothes.

 

“You’ll get over it in like two days, like always.” Seunghyun says lightly, moving to show his friend to the door. They hug briefly, thumping each other on the back and then Soohyuk’s out the door. He watches his friend walk down the hall way, a thumping headache beginning to grow in his temples. Before he forgets, he digs out his phone to message Jiyong.

 

Seunghyun: hey, hope you’re alright. Soohyuk’s giving me your stuff, so come round when ever is easiest for you to pick it up.

 

Used to Jiyong’s quick replies, it’s a surprise when he doesn’t get a reply that night. Nor the next morning. The evening rolls around and the only text he’s received is an offer from dominos (which he takes up). Soohyuk comes over again once he finishes work, dumping boxes of Jiyong’s possessions onto the sofa. He grumbles a bit more before making his way out the door, leaving Seunghyun with an empty flat again.

 

A pile of Jiyong’s clothes lay on the sofa, along with a guitar and a stack of books that surprises him. Their taste in literature is eerily similar, and he’s tempted to start reading a few were it not for feeling like prying into a part of Jiyong’s life that he hasn’t yet been invited into. Jiyong’s pile of things act as a stark reminder that his relationship with the younger man is inevitably going to change, now that he’s broken up with his best friend. Something he isn’t quite ready to accept yet.

 

Seunghyun: are you alive?

 

He sends another text when it reaches 10pm, mainly for his own benefit. The problem with being your own boss is that you sometimes go stretches without speaking to anyone, and on more than one occasion Seunghyun has found himself going to bed after a day where the only conversation he’s had has been with inanimate objects. He’s just about given up, running a hand over his face and beginning to think about getting ready for bed, when his phone buzzes.

 

Jiyong: yeah. I’ll come over tomorrow if that’s ok?

 

Seunghyun: no problem.

 

 

 

 

 

 

True to his word, Jiyong does come over the next day. It’s horrendously early in the morning, and Seunghyun answers the door whilst brushing the sleep from his eyes. Even in his barely conscious state he can tell that something’s up, though, as the smaller man avoids his gaze completely. His greeting is subdued, and he steps into the flat with the briskness of someone looking to get this over and done with as fast as possible.

 

“You alright?” Seunghyun asks, back against the wall as Jiyong breezes past him.

 

“Mhm.” Jiyong mumbles, then gets straight to the point. “Is it all in this pile here?”

 

“Yeah.” Seunghyun answers, and he’s unable to keep the bemused expression off his face. His stomach twists, thinking he must have done something to cause this tense atmosphere between them. “Have I done something wrong?”

 

“No. Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind at the moment.” Jiyong offers, in lieu of an explanation. Arms full of clothes, he turns back around to face Seunghyun. “Soohyuk didn’t leave any boxes? I just have to drag all my shit down 7 floors?”

 

“No, but I’ll take the rest down for you.” Seunghyun replies, starting to pick up what’s left on the sofa. The guitar strings twang as he picks it up, and he’s grateful towards them for filling the silence briefly. But once the sound stops the silence is even more palpable than before, the anxious feeling in his stomach that he must have done something wrong even worse.

 

“Cheers.” Jiyong replies, and once Seunghyun has the rest of his books tucked under one arm they make their way out of the flat and towards the lift. It’s silent as they wait for the lift, silent as they enter the lift and silent as the lift starts to travel down the floors.

 

“Just because Soohyuk and you aren’t a thing anymore, it doesn’t mean we can’t be friends anymore.”  

 

He’s not sure why he says it, but then it’s out there. All he gets is an empty smile back.

 

“What?” He asks, indignantly.

 

“God, you are so fucking oblivious.” Jiyong throws out, just as the lift door opens onto the ground floor. Clothes drag on the floor after him but he strides ahead anyway, out onto the street. Seunghyun is left in his wake, almost forgetting to move before the lift doors close on him again. By the time he catches up with Jiyong he’s at his car, shoving clothes in like he’s throwing punches.

 

“What are you talking about?” He asks, throwing the guitar and books into the boot. He hears a sigh as Jiyong shoves him out of the way to rearrange the guitar.

 

“Nothing. I shouldn’t have said it.” Jiyong answers, picking the keys out of his pocket and moving over to the car door. Quick as a flash he’s sliding into the front seat, looking steadfastly away from Seunghyun’s bewildered face. “I’ll see you around.” He throws over his shoulder, shutting the door and closing himself in the car.

 

“Why are you being like this?” Seunghyun calls out, but his question falls on deaf ears. The key turns in the ignition and the engine revs, and Seunghyun ends up watching the car pull away. He makes brief eye contact with Jiyong through the rear view mirror, but the younger man looks away in a heartbeat.

 

 

 

 

 

“So, have you thought about proposing again?” His mum asks down the phone. It comes after a lecture on his new life choices (something that tells him his parents aren’t very happy about his decision to take it easy for a while). But it also acts as a slap in the face because no, he _hasn’t_ thought about proposing again. In fact marriage, and everything that comes with it, have been so far down his priority list that they’ve even fallen off it. With his girlfriend still gone this past week, he’s barely thought of her at all.

 

“It’s not my top priority, mum.” He tells her. Which is the truth.

 

“Oh? So what is?” She asks, and that throws him into a bit of a lurch. When he tries to answer her, he _can’t._ The past few months have been spent developing his portfolio, and everyone in his circle has been gracious enough to give him the space he needs. This is the first time he’s really been forced to think beyond that. But when he does, when he thinks about Eun Hee and marriage and starting the next chapter of their life, it feels empty. He feels none of the emotions that he would have a few months ago; no rush of adrenaline or beating heart.

 

Maybe it’s just the depression.

 

He brushes off his mum’s question, asking her about her life instead, but the thought is still niggling at the back of his head. Eventually they break off the call, and he’s left to an empty flat with only his own thoughts for company. A week has passed since his thing with Jiyong (for the sake of his mental health he refuses to call it an argument) and he’s found himself stuck, dried out of inspiration, motivation, _everything_ really. It’s pathetic, and plain _strange_ really, just how much influence the other man has on him. But his pride has held him off from contacting Jiyong first, preferring to spend his days ripping out his hair in frustration.

 

That same night his phone rings again, the screen flashing up with ‘Eun Hee’ this time. He answers it after a few rings, wondering whether she’s calling because she wants to talk to him or whether she feels it’s like an obligation (he’s not sure when he got so bloody hormonal). Her voice sounds  warm and comforting down the phone, a familiar voice after a few weeks of turbulence. He catches her up with what’s been going on in their social circle, and she doesn’t sound half as surprised as he did to learn that Jiyong and Soohyuk broke up. The phone call lasts only as long as that conversation, though, as she has to dash off to a work event.

 

“I’ll be home soon, love you!” She calls down the phone, just before hanging up. He stares down at the phone in his hand, trying to decipher what he’s feeling right now. He fails, unsurprisingly, and opts for wine as the best form of therapy instead. The cold glass in his hand enables him to push away his thoughts for the night, and just for good measure he runs a bath as well. All thoughts of Eun Hee, Jiyong, and his bloody portfolio fly out of the window.


	9. Déjà vu

 

“ _Dear Mr. Choi,_

_We regret to inform you, but on this occasion your application has been unsuccessful-“_

He stops reading after that. Closes the tab and shuts his laptop. There’s a hundred and one different emotions flying around his brain but an overriding feeling of _numb,_ pure numbness.

 

“Are you alright?” Eun Hee asks, looking up from her magazine. Maybe he shut his laptop too violently because there’s a look of concern on her face, frown lines where smile lines would usually be.

 

“Mhm.” He replies, even though he’s not. Far from it, in fact. How could he be, when the only thing he’s been working towards for the past few months has just crashed and burnt in the space of a few seconds. None of that comes out, though, and he stands up, not sure of where he’s going but certain he needs to  get away from this situation. On autopilot he ends up in the bathroom, running a bath while standing under the shower at the same time. He’s gone mad, he registers somewhere in the back of his mind.  Certifiably, clinically mad.

 

Eventually the bath overflows, and the water spilling onto the tiles manages to pull him out of his own head. He still finds it hard to think, though, as he turns off the taps and steps out of the shower. All he can feel is a crushing defeat, not even the towel that he wraps around his waist or the droplets of water that settle on his skin.

 

“Are you alright?” He hears Eun Hee once more, through the bathroom door this time. He shuts his eyes tight (if he shuts them tight enough maybe he’ll disappear along with his surroundings).

 

“Seunghyun.” He hears. Opens his eyes. Still here, still in his steamed up bathroom. His reflection in the mirror looks back at him, sad eyes and messy hair.

 

“Yep.” He hears himself say. “Be out in a minute.”

 

Soft footsteps get fainter and fainter as Eun Hee walks away from the bathroom, taking his words at face value. It takes more than a minute before he’s stepping out of the bathroom, but when he does it’s straight into his bed; naked, messy and wanting nothing more than to just sink through the mattress.

 

The next morning he wakes up to find that he didn’t get his wish; he is very much still on top of the mattress. Still naked, still messy. He closes his eyes again (it’s easier than keeping them open) and lies there, still with the same numbness as the night before. He can barely even feel the sheets around his body, and it’s only Eun Hee’s breathing beside him that stops him losing himself completely. She groans softly next to him, rubbing her eyes with perfectly manicured hands.

 

Seunghyun slows down his breathing, and doesn’t pick the pace back up until a few hours later, when the door slams shut and silence descends on the flat. He lets out a big sigh, disturbing the air around him, followed by a groan. Years ago his teacher posed them the classic question, if a tree falls in the woods and no one is there to hear it, did it really make a sound? Seunghyun wonders that now, wonders whether his groan, and to a larger extent his absolute despair, actually exists even though no one is around to witness it.

 

There’s only one person he can bare witnessing him like this, and it happens to be the only person currently avoiding him. He has other friends, and yet he can’t expose himself to any of them like he can to Jiyong. Can’t bare everything, strip himself down like he can with the younger man. A large part of him is tempted to roll over and grab his phone, to text Jiyong and pour out his heartbreak in the hopes that it might stop hurting him so much. He knows what exactly will come of that, though, after several unsuccessful attempts to get in touch with him.

 

Instead he gets up (slowly and painfully), not knowing what he’s going to do but absolutely one hundred percent certain that he needs to do something. That something ends up being a run, after digging out his trainers from the bottom of their closet and ratty exercise clothes that haven’t seen the light of day in years. It’s completely out of character (but frankly he’s sick of being himself right now) and it doesn’t take long for him to remember just why it’s so out of character. His feet come to a gradual halt and he bends over to ease the cramp in his side. There’s barely 3 blocks between him and his flat, but he’s already spent. Sweat clings to every inch of his surface area and his breath comes in a stuttering pace.

 

Now he’s stopped, now the ground isn’t rushing beneath his pounding feet, he’s started thinking again, started _feeling_ again. Everything hits him like a two tonne truck, as cars carry on rushing past and people weave their way around his stationary body. No one seems to realise he is in the midst of an internal crisis.

 

Much like the run, no one is much help, really. They all offer their sympathy, but no one seems to understand _quite_ how crushing it feels. He’s constantly surprised by his ability to stay upright over the following week, given that it feels like someone’s kicked him in the guts.

 

Fragile. He’s fragile.

 

His moping around starts to grate on Eun Hee’s nerves, and they find themselves having arguments that are no stranger to the pair of them. So familiar that Seunghyun knows every twist and turn of them, knows when he will sigh or when his girlfriend will slam a door.

 

The flat becomes eerily quiet after their arguments, more than normal. It’s a heavy silence, one that makes him reach for the open bottle  of wine (he’s smart enough to make sure that there’s always a bottle open in the fridge). He’d be lying if during those times he hadn’t reached for his phone to open up his and Jiyong’s last conversation, thumb hovering over the keyboard with words at the tip of his tongue. It’s confusing, to say the least. More than once he’s wondered if this counts as having an affair; he’s heard all about _emotional_ affairs from his mum and her friends.

 

But that isn’t this. He misses Jiyong, and that’s fine because they’re _friends_ (at least from  Seunghyun’s perspective they are). Maybe he became a little too dependent on the younger man, but that’s also fine. Understandable, even. Jiyong came into his life during a rocky period. He needed to cling to something and that something just happened to be Jiyong.

 

But then it’s 3am, and the wine in his bloodstream makes his thoughts clumsy and loud. And they’re all about one thing.

 

It’s easier that way. At least when he’s sad about not talking to Jiyong he can’t be sad about the job market or his overwhelming anxiety for the future. He can’t be worried about the 4th argument between him and Eun Hee in half the number of days. It’s a form of escapism, he grudgingly acknowledges. He’ll take anything at the moment, though.

 

It used to be art. But he feels sick when he looks at his canvases now. They all go back in the spare room, and he shuts the door thinking that that really is the last of it. His last go at _whatever_ , and silently resigns himself to go back applying for jobs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He goes back to the same motions, wake up, eat, stare at a computer screen for a couple of hours. Eat some more, stare some more. Eventually fall asleep. Sometimes it takes him hours to fall asleep, sometimes he falls asleep at his desk with crumbs down his chest. Sometimes he wakes up with a blanket draped around his shoulders, or the smell of Eun Hee’s perfume next to him in bed. Sometimes he wakes up alone, with a stiff back and joints that crack as  he stands up.

 

The little bit of variety in his life is nice, though.

 

He isn’t aware just how much of a rut he’s fallen into until his cousin comes to town, and Seunghyun makes the effort to fulfil his obligation to see him. It becomes the first time he’s spoken to anyone other than a frosty Eun Hee in weeks, having turned down his friends so often they stopped asking.

 

“So how is everything going?” Dongwook asks, sitting across the table in a crowded bar. “Mum said Eun Hee turned you down?”

 

His cousin looks just the same as ever; handsome and well put together. He’s yelling to be heard over the noise, playing with his pint glass as Seunghyun mulls over the question. The question comes immediately after they sit down, but it’s as if it’s been on the tip of his tongue for months.

 

“Yeah. I guess that’s what happened?” Seunghyun replies, looking down at his own pint glass, uninclined to provide Dongwook with the details.

 

“So what? You’re single now?” Dongwook prods. Someone knocks into the back of Seunghyun’s chair and his pint glass jolts in his hand. Beer splashes onto the table and he grimaces.

 

“I’m just waiting until she’s ready.” He answers, wiping the beer away with his sleeve (Eun Hee would kill him).

 

“So you’re still living together? Christ.”

 

“What does that mean?” Hackles raised, Seunghyun asks back.

 

“Nothing.” Dongwook rolls his eyes. “ _Nothing.”_ He says firmly, seeing a frown still set in Seunghyun’s face. “So we’re getting hammered tonight, yeah?”

 

Resigning himself to the fact that, yes, they most likely were going to get hammered tonight, Seunghyun sighs. A small smile spreads across his cousin’s face. His older cousin is a terrible influence on him, and it doesn’t take long for the two of them to be splitting a pill they got from a shady man in a shady corner. Soon Seunghyun is sweating through his layers, dancing to house music that he doesn’t understand with people he doesn’t know, in a club which the name of he’s forgotten long ago.

 

None of that matters, though. All that matters is the drink in his hand and the fact that he’s gasping for a cigarette. Leaving Dongwook on the dance floor he weaves his way through the crowd, fresh air hitting his face once he finally makes it out to the smoking area. It’s a Tuesday night so the area is empty, save for two other girls leaning up against the wall. Seunghyun watches from the corner of his eye as they sway on their heels, slipping a cigarette between his lips and leaning up against the same wall. One hand is holding his fag and the other in his pocket, so when one of the girls finally trips up there’s nothing to stop her from falling into him. Nothing to stop her drunk giggling when she realises what she’s done, nothing to stop her breath hitching when she looks up at Seunghyun’s face.

 

“I’ll meet you inside, going to have another fag.” She says to her friend, still invading Seunghyun’s personal space. There’s a lopsided smile on her face as she carries on staring, seemingly not put off by the beads of sweat clinging to every inch skin. She’s attractive, nothing on Eun Hee but then beauty is a very subjective thing. Intelligence is less subjective, and if her attempts at conversation are anything to go by then she has nothing on Eun Hee in that respect either. But she’s attractive. Which is why when her lips meet Seunghyun’s a little while later he does nothing to push her away.

 

The next morning he wakes up to a thumping headache and an empty bed. Eun Hee is on another business trip, and he feels awash with gratefulness for that fact once the events from the night before to the forefront of his memory. It’s like he can still taste the other girl on his lips, and had Eun Hee been here and him be forced to accept what he’s done he may have just died of guilt. For now, though, he can at least try and push it to the back of his mind.

 

Unsurprisingly, that doesn’t work. After a shower and something to eat he calls Soohyuk. It goes straight to voicemail, and Seunghyun almost rips his hair out after he hears the beep. He tries to distract himself by watching TV, but it ends up being a documentary on climate change and he realises that this guilt will rip him apart before global warming can ever touch him.

 

Thankfully, before either can take place, he gets a text from Soohyuk.

 

 

 

Soohyuk: Jesus you never call. Was this by accident?

 

Seunghyun: Can we talk in person? I’m having a crisis.

 

Soohyuk: I’m out of London at the moment, I’ll be back in a week. Can you wait until then?

 

Seunghyun: I’ll give it a go.

 

Soohyuk: Nice one champ.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He makes it through the week, avoiding everything from Eun Hee’s calls to mirrors and long periods of silence. Anything that may bring himself to reflect on what he’s done. Soohyuk finally calls him to meet up, and coffee quickly turns into drinks which turns into a big night out for everyone, but Seunghyun weighs his reluctance against his burning need to confess his sins. The latter comes out on top, so in a matter of hours he has 3 men around his table, sat in front of tequila shots and limes.

 

“So, what was your crisis?” Soohyuk asks, wincing as the alcohol burns his throat. Donghwi and Kyungil do the same, looking to Seunghyun for explanation.

 

Seunghyun rubs a hand over his face. Now he has a chance to get it off his chest he’s not sure he wants to. Would much rather take his secret to the grave.

 

“I kissed someone.” He says with a groan. With his head in his hands he doesn’t see their expressions, but he does hear their laughter.

 

“Is that it? Christ man, get over it.” Donghwi says, along with a deep giggle. Raising his head from his hands, Seunghyun glares at him.

 

“I have to tell Eun Hee though, right? How can I not? I feel terrible.”

 

“I’m with Donghwi. It’s just a kiss.” Kyungil butts in. When Seunghyun doesn’t say anything Soohyuk fills the silence.

 

“Wanna know why I was out of town?” He says with a smirk. Seunghyun doesn’t really want to know, but Soohyuk carries on anyway. “So this guy, right, he’s been asking me out for like _weeks._ I finally say yes, just to get him off my back, and he says ‘pack a bag’. _Prague,_ we ended up in _Prague_ for a week.”

 

“Really pays to be gay.” Kyungil mutters, throwing back another shot.

 

“Lots of prostitutes in Prague.” Seunghyun mutters.

 

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Soohyuk laughs, and it’s only then that Seunghyun realises he’s spoken out loud.

 

“Nothing.” He replies, because it’s much easier than telling his friend that he was thinking about Jiyong and the escort industry and how even Soohyuk’s erratic dating life is better than his own stable long term relationship right now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Soohyuk drags them to a gay bar and they barely make it in. Falling over each other and giggling, earning a long look from the security guards until Soohyuk slips them a wink. It only takes two songs for Seunghyun to lose the others, Soohyuk likely to a dark corner with a stranger and the other two to another dark corner with a strange substance. He makes his way out to the smoking area, escaping from a man with his hand on his bum in the process.

 

It’s like déjà vu when he gets outside, an empty smoking area save for him and a couple of people in the other corner. They pay him no attention, fully engrossed in their own conversation as Seunghyun leans against the wall. One of them starts laughing loudly, and Seunghyun realises that he’s heard that laugh before. The alcohol in his body gets him moving before his mind can process what he’s doing, but then he’s right behind the pair.

 

“Jiyong!” He says. The younger man spins around, wide eyed and blonde strands of hair whipping around his face.

 

“Seunghyun! What are you doing here?” Jiyong asks, sounding a lot happier than the last time they saw each other.

 

“Soohyuk brought me. I wouldn’t go inside for a while.” He tells Jiyong dramatically.

 

The third man lets out a short laugh.

 

“Can’t move for your suitors in this place, Jiyong.”

 

Jiyong thumps him.

 

“Go back inside, Seungri.”

 

Seungri raises an eyebrow but does as he’s told.

 

“Nice seeing you again, Seunghyun.” He says before leaving, and then it’s just the two of them face to face in the courtyard.

 

“Soohyuk thinks Seungri’s the reason why you guys broke up.” Seunghyun says, filling the silence. The smile on Jiyong’s face wavers a little bit.

 

“Nah. He’s too much for me. Shame, really. He’s got such a great bum.”

 

Neither of them are aware of the time passing as they catch up, moving to sit down against a wall side by side. He tells Jiyong about his masters, who in turn tells him about his latest client who just got done for drug trafficking.

 

“We’re not doing well.” Seunghyun says with a laugh and Jiyong agrees, letting out his own laugh. Seunghyun’s eyes are drawn to his lips, and when he finally tears his gaze away his eyes are met by Jiyong’s. There’s something unreadable in the other man’s eyes as he slowly leans forward. Seunghyun can smell the alcohol on his breath and then their lips are touching. He does nothing to push Jiyong away, the very opposite in fact. Gradually his lips are moving against Jiyong’s, his breath coming in shudders.

 

Jiyong pulls away first, looking at Seunghyun with a guarded expression.

 

“I-“ Seunghyun goes to speak, but Jiyong interrupts him (which is good, because he has no idea what he was going to say).

“I know, you’re not gay.” Jiyong says, dejectedly. He slowly gets up, with a sigh that echoes around the courtyard.

 

“Ji-“ Seunghyun says. The younger man pauses to listen, but Seunghyun has nothing else to say.


	10. Moving On

“I kissed someone.”

 

Silence.

 

He doesn’t say who, doesn’t say that he kissed Jiyong in a nightclub or that a week before that he kissed a stranger in a different nightclub. At the moment those details seem pretty insignificant to him, to Eun Hee too, who’s mouth forms a tight line opposite him. What has seemed most important to him over the past few days was getting this guilt off of his chest, removing it from where it’s taken home in between his ribcage.

 

Now he kind of wishes that he’d let it stay there, watching hurt flash through his girlfriends eyes. But as quickly as the hurt comes, it goes away even quicker. Replaced by a cold, hard look that Seunghyun understands as _that’s it, we’re done._

 

 

 

 

 

 

He moves out 2 days later, hauling a suitcase and several boxes behind him and into Soohyuk’s car. The engine is already running as he slides down into the seat, gently rumbling against the road. Soohyuk’s hand is on the handbrake but he turns to look at Seunghyun before moving it.

 

“Are you sure you should do this?” He asks. Seunghyun’s eyes are fixed on the road ahead of them, but out of the corner of them he sees his friends brows furrow.

 

“Not really.”

 

Except for the hum of the engine, it’s silent.

 

“This has probably been coming for a while.” He says, not sure if he’s directing it to Soohyuk or himself.

 

More silence.

 

“We haven’t been happy for a while.” He reasons further. Soohyuk still doesn’t speak, so he urges his friend on; “let’s go.”

 

It may not be the right decision, but at least it’s a decision. The handbrake goes down and they slowly pull out onto the road, indicators blinking and window wipers to get rid of the drizzle that’s started. Grey clouds line the sky and soon it’s raining for real, droplets thudding down onto the roof of the car and filling the silence.

 

“Fitting.” Seunghyun jokes, but it sounds empty and mirthless and Soohyuk ignores it. They eventually get stuck in traffic, and he presses his head against the window, shutting his eyes and trying to push away his thoughts. Thoughts about being a failure, about messing everything up again, about the look in Eun Hee’s eyes and how similar it was to the look in Jiyong’s. About the fact that he doesn’t really know how he feels about any of this. Common sense and societal norms tell him that he should be heartbroken, but the overriding feeling is guilt, with a side order of confusion.

 

It probably has been coming for a while.

 

Slowly the traffic ahead of them starts to ease off, and the car jolts forward with it. In doing so Seunghyun’s head thumps against the window. It hurts, but at least it gives him something else to think about.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Here.” Soohyuk says, all but thrusting a beer into his hands. “Sorry I haven’t got any of your vintage wine shit, but, speaking from experience, beer is just as good at numbing the pain.”

 

“I don’t think I even feel pain.” Seunghyun says back. His knees are drawn into his chest, clothed in his softest flannel pyjamas. He’s in his self pity mode, but in all honestly he doesn’t think he deserves to feel sorry for himself. “Is that bad?”

 

“Depends what the reason is.” After pausing to take a sip of his own beer, Soohyuk replies. “Do you have a reason, or are you just being weird?”

 

Seunghyun bites his lip.

 

“Just being weird, probably.”

 

His friend doesn’t press the matter any further, and eventually gives up on his attempts to make small talk. They sit in silence for a while, fiddling with their beer bottles until the other man gets up, bringing a carton of cigarettes back to the table. He quickly lights one up, sliding an ash tray between them and passing the box to Seunghyun.

 

“Don’t get me wrong, I like her, a lot. But I never really thought you two were suited to each other.” He says in between drags. There’s always been something about having a cigarette in his hand that makes Soohyuk’s lips loosen.

 

“And you didn’t tell me this 4 years ago because…?” Seunghyun asks, an eyebrow raised.

 

“I thought you were happy. What you said in the car was right, though. You haven’t been happy for a while.”

 

Rain still hammers against the windows, condensing against the glass and running down in rivers. Seunghyun pulls his legs in even closer.

 

“That wasn’t her, though. That was me.”

 

“She didn’t help.”

 

“I-“

 

“I’m not saying that was her fault. I’m just saying that’s the way things happened. And maybe this is the way things have to go on.” Soohyuk interrupts Seunghyun, waving away his protestations with smoke wafting from his hand. 

 

“When did you get so smart?”

 

Soohyuk offers a small smirk.

 

“When did you get so bloody melancholy?” He throws back. Seunghyun dips his head. “It doesn’t seem like you want a big night out, so I’m gonna head to bed. Feel free to watch TV or whatever, I still feel bad I can’t offer you a room.

 

“It’s fine, a bed would just make me feel lonely.” Seunghyun jokes. Soohyuk doesn’t laugh with him, though.

 

“Well, feel free to come and spoon with me if that becomes the case.” He eventually jokes back, but not after giving Seunghyun a long, hard look.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When he wakes up the next morning the first thing he does is check his phone, still hoping for something (he’s not quite sure just _what_ he’s hoping for, though). There’s a crook in his neck due to Soohyuk’s sofa being too small for his frame and one leg has gone numb from hanging over the side for too long. But neither of those are the most upsetting things that morning; it’s a certain text that sends his stomach churning.

 

Jiyong: it must be fairly obvious by now that I like you. I’m not going to try anything, nor expect anything from you. But I would like it if we can be friends again.

 

Jiyong: I hope that doesn’t seem to selfish, given that I was the one who stopped us from being friends in the first place. But whatever, I miss talking to you.

 

If this were just a month ago he would be overjoyed, but it’s coming a bit too late. It’s coming when he’s lying on his friend’s sofa, kicked out of his girlfriend’s flat. When he can’t think straight. He hasn’t received so much support from someone in a long time, but no one else has caused him so much confusion, either. There’s a lot he needs to sort out in his own life, from his homeless situation to the thoughts in his head, but if he’s sure of anything it’s that he can’t have Jiyong confusing him even further.

 

Seunghyun: I can’t do this at the moment, sorry.

 

Unsurprisingly, Jiyong doesn’t text back. At first it’s fine, but then a terrible guilt grows in his chest as the minute hand slowly works its way around Soohyuk’s clock. It culminates in him feeling worse than he has done all week, and he lies there with racing thoughts. Faint stirrings come from Soohyuk’s room, offering the perfect ammunition for him to get up and leave his thoughts behind on the sofa. He isn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, so he rummages around for his trainers, pulling on some old sweats and plugging his headphones into his phone. Running his hand through his hair, he takes a look in the mirror. He looks a state, to say the least. Hair sticking up in all 360 degrees and stubble starting to appear in patches. He rations with himself, though. Tells himself that he has no one to impress, so he may as well go out looking like this anyway. It’s a thought that is both liberating and crushing at the same time (primarily the latter).

 

Once he’s out of the flat another thought dawns on him; he has no keys to get back into the flat. Water seeps into his trainers from the puddles collected the night before and he lets out a groan.

 

Not his morning, not his week, not his bloody year.

 

The run does nothing to clear his mind, all he can think of is how rude Jiyong must think he is. He’s pulling out his phone, already considering sending Jiyong another text, when he’s interrupted by a call from his mum. He lets it ring for a while but eventually answers it, feet splashing in puddles and hair on end to fight off the cold. She’s been texting him every day since he told her, all but begging for him to open up so he feels he owes her this, at least.

 

“How are you, sweetie?” She asks. It’s soft and slow and sounds like she’s tiptoeing around him. He’s unsure how honest he should be, so used to saying that he’s fine when he’s not.

 

“I don’t know, really.” He ends up saying. When he thinks about it, he’s telling her the truth. Whenever he’s thought in the past about the possibility of them breaking up, it’s been coupled with a crushing _fear._ He’s lived safe in the knowledge that he never wanted this to happen; effectively his worst nightmare.

 

Now it’s actually come to fruition, though, it’s far from what he imagined. Maybe the events of the past year have numbed him some what, and it’s that he tells his mum.

 

“Hmmm.” She says back. Doubt runs through her reply. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

 

“Mum, it’s fine.”

 

“Seunghyun, this is the love of your life, no one is expecting you to be ok.”

 

“I think this was coming for a while, though. I was just choosing to ignore it.” He’s stopped pacing by this point, sitting down on a bench instead. It was a bad idea; cold water seeps through his jogging bottoms. He winces, realising what he’s just said. “That sounds really bad, doesn’t it?”

 

She chooses to ignore his question.

 

“Listen, I’m not supposed to tell you this,” She launches off. “But your cousin Dongwook has been going to therapy for the past few months.”

 

Seunghyun knows where this is going and shuts his eyes.

 

“Your Aunt says it’s done him the world of good. I’m going to text you her number later, promise me you’ll think about it?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll think about it.” He sighs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He breaks his promise, failing to think about it even once. The next few weeks are busy; moving into a new flat and attending job interviews for applications he doesn’t even remember sending. His bank account is dire, being reluctant to talk to Eun Hee about their joint account (a terrible idea, he always knew it), so his mum has to spot him for the first month’s rent. It’s a cheap, one bedroom affair with basic Ikea furniture and a view of the flat opposite.

 

Reluctant to accept that this is his life now, it takes him a while to get round to sorting out his stuff. As he arranges his clothes he comes across a jumper, one that certainly doesn’t belong to him or Eun Hee. Ragged holes line the fabric, making him think of only one person.

 

He dumps it in the bin.

 

And Jiyong’s not the thing he’s been pushing to the back of his mind. Determined to get his life (somewhat) back on track, he’s been steadfastly ignoring any bad or confusing thoughts. Firm in the belief that if he doesn’t acknowledge them then they won’t become real, once again he finds himself going through the motions. Eventually he ends up confronting though; having secured a job that doesn’t start for weeks and surviving off value pasta and an unplanned overdraft. Meeting Eun Hee finally becomes the lesser of two evils; it’s that or sponging off his mum at 25 years old.

 

They meet somewhere neutral, a coffee shop halfway between their houses, and Seunghyun is unable to stop fidgeting as he waits at the table. When she arrives they hug, and it’s so absent of any animosity that it takes him completely by surprise. She even offers him a smile. Not what he was expecting given the frosty goodbye he received a few weeks ago.

 

“You’re looking well!” She says, sitting down into her chair and signalling over a waitress. He’s not, he knows that. Spots have appeared on his face for the first time since he left puberty (cheap ready meals and cereal for breakfast, lunch and dinner will do that to you) and his hair has never been in worse condition after weeks of cheap shampoo. It’s nice of her, though.

 

“Thanks.” He replies, letting out a small laugh. “You look great.”

 

She does. Happy, rested.

 

“I’m sorry, about everything. And I’m sorry for taking so long to message. You know how shit I am with confrontation.” He says, offering a small shrug by way of apology. She waves a hand to brush it off.

 

“I don’t want to speak for the both of us, but I don’t think we were working for a while. I probably wasn’t the best over the past few months, we both made mistakes.”

 

The rest of their meeting goes just as amicably as it begun, and he leaves with a weight off his shoulders. What he can’t ignore, though, is how void of emotion he feels as they part. After becoming so fragile the past year, he met up with Eun Hee expecting to be a wreck afterwards. And yet here he is, feeling _empty_ , if anything.

 

He was so sure he was in love with her.

 

He lies in bed that night trying not to think about the fact that he doesn’t miss her, not in the way he’s supposed to. There’s only one person he really misses.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“What can I help you with, Seunghyun?” The therapist asks, sitting opposite him in her living room. They’re in a lovely house in West London, with furniture that reminds him of the flat he used to share with Eun Hee.

 

He hesitates, unsure how to put anything into words when he cant even unravel it in his own head.  

 

“I can’t help you unless you talk.” She says with a smile. Teeth so white that even Soohyuk would be proud of them shine through.

 

“I guess I, I don’t know.” He starts off. “I think I just need to clear some things up in my own head, probably.”

 

She smiles again, motioning for him to go on. Seunghyun clears his throat.

 

“I’ve had a tough year. I lost my job, and then it was hard to find a new one. I got rejected from a masters and I just broke up with my girlfriend.”

 

There’s a small pause before he carries on.

 

“And for some reason the last one has affected me the least, I think. Unless sadness just doesn’t affect me anymore.”

 

“Did you not love her?”

 

“I thought I did. Now I’m not really sure what love is, I guess.”

 

“Love isn’t a concrete thing. What we think is love is different for everyone, and the love we feel will change for person to person.”

 

“What is love to you?” She asks, when he fails to say anything. He bites his lip before answering.

 

“I thought it meant not being happy without the other person, not being able to live without them.”

 

“And that’s not how you feel now?”

 

“I guess not.”  

 

“Do you still think that’s what love is?”

 

He’s about to say no, how can it be when the love of his life has left him and he feels _ok._ Not broken, like he always imagined. But then someone else comes to mind, someone he’s tried so hard to stop thinking about for the past month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the way this story is progressing makes sense ?¿?¿


	11. Selfish

“ _Signs you might be bisexual.”_ The top of the website reads. It’s 3am and the light from his laptop is hurting his eyes, but it will be a miracle if he manages to get any sleep tonight. Past him, the arts student with a head full of dreams, would’ve said _fuck labels. Sexuality is fluid!_ He would’ve proclaimed, a cigarette in one hand and a black coffee in the other. Now though, after weeks of agonizing over this, it’s starting to feel like a label might be the only thing he has left to cling onto.

 

He reads further down the page, hoping to gain some clarity on how he’s feeling, and is presented with a neat little checklist. It takes a few seconds of questioning whether he’s actually going to do this, but then with no sense of irony he begins to make his way down the bullet points. The first one is easy to answer.

 

“ _Are you attracted to the opposite sex?”_

Yes, clearly. The second one throws him a little.

 

“ _Are you attracted to the same sex?”_ Immediately Jiyong comes to mind, and yet he’d never really thought about attraction. He knows he likes the other man as a friend, but it’s certainly beginning to feel like there’s more to it than that. Sometimes he catches himself thinking about Jiyong, and it becomes very hard to tear his thoughts away. Thankfully, the rest of the questions are pretty straightforward.  He ends up with a fairly certain “ _you might be bisexual”,_ but he has no idea what to that with that knowledge.

 

He wakes up that morning with the laptop screen still glaring at him. The clock reads 7am and he groans in response. It’s his first day at his new job, and to say he’s dreading it would be an understatement. Eventually he manages to get going and starts to make himself look presentable, clipping his skin with the razor a couple of times. He dabs at the blood with toilet paper. He doesn’t look any different, but he sure as hell _feels_ different. Soohyuk once told him that when he realised he was gay it felt like someone had pressed stop on a timer, he was frozen, except the world kept moving on around him.

 

Seunghyun would likely feel the same, except he doesn’t trust himself. He’s never trusted how he feels, always doubted every emotion that ran through his body. Last week his therapist said it seemed like he had a tendency to psycho-analyse himself. He can see where she was coming from. On the way to work he tests himself, stares intently at men on the tube. They’re conventionally attractive, he can recognise that, but he feels nothing. Giving up, he looks back down at his hands. He maxes out the volume on his music to block out any thoughts of his current crisis, almost missing his stop because he’s so intent on clearing his mind.

 

It’s rush hour as he makes his way out of the tube, and despite the sweat and suffocation, he realises he’s missed it. He’s missed striding determinedly along the streets, weaving around tourists and juggling coffee in his hand. He reaches his destination, a different location to where they conducted the interview, and stares up at the building. The outside walls are lined with glass instead of brick, so he gets his first glimpse of the inside. He likes what he sees; streamlined sofas and plants with palm leaves, tasteful art spanning the walls. Entering the building, he’s greeted by a receptionist. Piercings frame her face and the tips of her hair are dyed green. She reminds him so much of Jiyong that it throws him for a second.

 

But she’s nice, really nice, and takes him all the way up to his new offices. Everyone he meets that day is just as nice, and he when he leaves work later it’s with a genuine smile on his face and a promise to join them for drinks later in the week. He feels happier than he has done in a long while. When he arrives home, though, his happiness starts to ebb slightly. After being in a relationship for so long, he’d forgotten how it felt to be lonely. Not just alone, but _lonely._ The physical feeling that takes home in his stomach every time he enters his flat.

 

He pulls out his phone to text Soohyuk, but finds his thumb hovering over his last conversation with Jiyong instead.

 

‘ _Can we talk?’_ He types out. But he deletes it all before he can press send. How is it fair for him to drag Jiyong into his mess again when he isn’t even sure if this is what he wants?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The gnawing feeling of loneliness begins to eat away at him, and seeing the receptionist every morning does nothing to help the situation. It’s not until his birthday a few weeks later, though, when everyone bar Jiyong texts him and he spends the whole night in a lurch, that he finally accepts that the other man might be the answer to his problems.

 

And yet he still can’t bring himself to text the other man. Many times he’ll pull out his phone to type a text, only to delete all the letters once more. Every time he’s about to send it off he’s reminded of the look on Jiyong’s face last time he saw him. That’s the last thing he wants to see again, but he has an awful feeling that it’s inevitable.

 

There’s only one person he can talk to about this, so he brings it up at his next therapy session.

 

“I have a problem.” He says. His knees are crossed and his hands are resting on top of them; they’ve been practicing meditation for the past ten minutes.

 

“Oh?” His therapist says, waiting for him to explain.

 

“I think I like someone. But I don’t really trust myself anymore.” He blurts out. There’s a long pause, the only noise coming from the birds outside.

 

“Why don’t you trust yourself?” She asks, slowly. He takes his time answering, finding it hard to put into words.

 

“I’ve been a bit of a dick to him in the past.” He starts out with. “Doesn’t really seem fair to drag him into this if I’m not one hundred percent certain, if you know what I mean.”

 

“Sometimes, Seunghyun, we’re allowed to be selfish.” Is what she counters with. He stays silent. “You didn’t answer my question, though. Why don’t you trust yourself?”

 

Again, he remains silent.

 

“Maybe that’s a topic for next week, then?” There’s a small smile on her face as she says it, folding her hands in her lap. He leaves the meeting with her words going around and around in his head. _We’re allowed to be selfish._ Convinced, he slips his phone out of his pocket on the walk home.

 

 

 

Seunghyun: I’m sorry I was a bit of a dick. Can we talk?

 

 

 

He sends off, before the little voice at the back of his head can talk him out of it. It was a massive anti-climax; the text just bounces right back at him. He tries sending it 3 more times, turns his wifi off and on, turns his data off and on, eventually tries to send it via sms. Undelivered, undelivered, undelivered.

 

 

 

Seunghyun: What does it mean if a text bounces back to you?

 

 

 

He sends to Donghwi, not wanting to start a conversation with Soohyuk about trying to text his ex-boyfriend.

 

 

 

Donghwi: It means they’ve blocked your number.

 

Donghwi: Lols who’s blocked you?

 

 

 

He ignores the last message, putting his phone back in his pocket. He carries on walking, deep in thought. There are two different avenues he can go down: give up, or find another way.

 

 

 

Seunghyun: Do you still have the number of that escort service you booked for my birthday last year?

 

 

 

After dodging the torrent of questions Donghwi throws his way, Seunghyun finally secures the number. He doesn’t call it until later that night, fighting with his own common sense that’s screaming _what the fuck are you doing._

 

“Hello?” A female voice answers the phone. Seunghyun almost hangs it up there and then. He’s calling an _escort service,_ for God’s sake. This time last year he had a stable career and girlfriend. Now he’s sitting alone at 11pm, on the phone to what is effectively an up-market pimp. “Hello?” The voice calls out once more.

 

“Hi.” He answers, but not before a thousand different thoughts run through his mind. “I’m, um, do you still have someone called Jiyong on your books?”

 

“We don’t have a Jiyong, Sir.” She answers, without hesitation. “Never had one on our books, actually. Maybe you have the wrong agency?”

 

“No, this is definitely the right one.” He answers. The whole situation is so weird he can feel anxiety starting to build in his chest. “Can you hold on for a second, sorry?”

 

He puts down the phone, thinking hard. At some point in time he’s sure Jiyong must have told him the name he used for this thing. His thoughts bring him back to the first time he met the other man, when he sat on his sofa with a glass of wine and a hoody he borrowed from Seunghyun.

 

 _Max._ He said.

 

“Max? Do you have a Max?” He asks, before the voices in the back of his head try to talk him out of it one more time.

 

“We do. What would you like?” She answers.

 

He’s stumped, now. Didn’t think this far ahead.

 

“What…what is there to choose from?”  

 

“Well, we charge by the hour. So how many hours would you like?”

 

“Oh, ok. Just one, maybe?” If his plan works out, he wont have to pay for Jiyong’s time.

 

“We say three, minimum.”

 

He grits his teeth.

 

“Sure.”  


	12. Luck of a Kennedy

 

 

Blood clots at his fingernails after a week of biting and picking at them, a nervous habit that has resurfaced for the first time since he left University. He picked a bar for them to meet but is beginning to regret it now, since an anxious Seunghyun is a Seunghyun that is impulsive and flightly, a Seunghyun that will gladly take whatever the bartender is offering. It doesn’t help either that he arrived half an hour early and can neck a glass of wine down faster than a sorority girl. He looks around the room once more as the watch on his wrist turns past 8pm, anxious that Jiyong won’t see him. The bartender sees this and smiles.

 

“They’d have to be crazy to stand you up.” He says. Seunghyun stutters his thanks, and deep down wishes that that’s what he was afraid of. Tonight his date is contractually obliged to meet him, something that still makes his skin crawl. Despite his reservations though, he still went through with it. That surprises him; he’d always held a life-long membership to the ‘if you don’t want to do something, don’t do it’ society. It wasn’t smooth sailing, though; that afternoon he’d been pacing back and forth around his small flat, moral dilemma after moral dilemma. What to wear, what to say, how to act. Everything sent him spiralling into a panic. The panic is still very much there, but before his anxiety can grow into a fully fledged panic attack, he spots Jiyong walking into the bar.

 

The younger man looks good, and Seunghyun quickly realises that he doesn’t mean that in a no-homo way. He looks much more confident than Seunghyun feels, and it dawns on Seunghyun that as far as Jiyong knows this is just another job for him. Now he has to go over there and shatter that illusion. He downs what’s left of his wine first, sliding off the barstool and making his way over to the table he booked. Jiyong is already sitting down, conveniently with his back to him so he doesn’t see the way Seunghyun sways slightly on his feet. When Seunghyun imagined this moment, he pictured smoothly sliding into the table and, you know, actually speaking. What he didn’t picture was awkwardly dragging out a chair, knocking over a tap water and backing up into the woman behind him. This is all under the wide eyed stare of Jiyong, whose facial expression doesn’t change even once Seunghyun finally sits down.

 

“You alright?” He asks, slowly.

 

“I’m good, how are you?” Seunghyun asks back. He didn’t come here to ask Jiyong how he was doing, but he’s scraping at any chance to delay the inevitable explanation.

 

“Good. I’d love to chat but I have someone coming–“ Jiyong looks at his watch. “Well, he should be here now.” Inwardly Seunghyun groans. It’s now or never.

 

“I know. I’m the client.” He says, looking down at his fingers. Jiyong’s laugh comes out in a short bark.

 

“That’s funny. But seriously-“

 

They’re interrupted by a staff member coming over. He leans over to light the candle on their table, casting Jiyong’s features in a warm glow.

 

“It’s table service here tonight, so is there anything I can get you, or are you still deciding?” He asks.

 

“Two glasses of wine, please.” Seunghyun says, before Jiyong can say anything. He waits until the waiter has left with their order to speak again. “I’m being serious.”

 

It feels like world stops spinning around them, as if the hands on the clock stop moving, as Jiyong stares at Seunghyun. He takes long blinks, again and again, and again. Finally it looks as if he’s about to speak, and a flood of relief washes over Seunghyun. Taking a deep breath, Jiyong simply says;

 

“What?”

 

There’s no tone behind it, nothing that Seunghyun can detect as anger or resentment. It just is. He swallows, thinking hard to find the right words to say.

 

“I tried texting you, but you blocked me.” He ends up saying. The sentence doesn’t go very far to explaining their current predicament, which shows on Jiyong’s face.

 

“So…you booked me for the night?”

 

His tone is dripping with scorn now.

 

“Yeah.” Seunghyun replies. His words sound very inadequate even to his own ears.

 

“What was so important? Jesus.” Jiyong’s confusion turns quickly into anger. “I’m sorry if I’m being rude, but this is a little bit mental, Seunghyun. Couldn’t have just asked Soohyuk to talk to me if you wanted to meet that bad?”

 

Seunghyun doesn’t tell him that he might just be the only chance he has at true happiness, or that the reason he didn’t go through Soohyuk is that his intentions are slightly less than platonic.

 

“We should be friends again.” He says, instead.

 

“What, so you can use me as your emotional backbone again?” Jiyong hits back, his face full of disbelief. Seunghyun may have deserved that, but he still can’t keep the hurt out of his voice when he asks;

 

“Did I really do that?”

 

There’s a pause, during which Jiyong looks down at his empty wine glass.

 

“I’m just being an arsehole.” He says, eventually. There’s another long pause before he speaks again. “I was a bit of a dick too, anyway. Putting my feelings onto you like that and then disappearing when you didn’t feel the same.”

 

Seunghyun should really take the opportunity to tell him that, wait, maybe he _does_ feel the same. But then they’re interrupted by the waiter once again, leaning over to fill wine into their glasses. The chugging fills the silence, but Jiyong remains staring at him with an unreadable expression.

 

“So you wanna be friends that bad?” He asks, a small smirk on his face. “How have you been, then?” He picks up his full glass of wine and clinks it with Seunghyun’s on the table. As if the floodgates have been opened, Seunghyun tells him everything. He’s careful not to offload too much on the other man, though, having taken the earlier comment to heart, so keeps it light. He finds himself laughing a lot as the night progresses; there’s always been something about Jiyong that allows him to see the funny side in the torrent of shit that’s seemingly come his way, from the people at his work that still don’t know how to pronounce his Korean name (it’s not _sun-yung_ for God’s sake) to the fact that he’s gone from a flat full of expensive Scandinavian furniture to one of instant noodles. In turn, he listens closely while Jiyong fills him in on the past few months, wanting to gauge where the other man stands. It’s all going fine; Jiyong is still the struggling musician with questionable life choices he’s always known, until he says the fateful words;

 

“You should come over soon, meet my new boyfriend.” There’s a fair amount of wine in his system by this point, and he winks at Seunghyun who’s trying hard not to act like his stomach has just twisted.

 

_Boyfriend._

“I should, yeah.” He manages to squeeze out, downing the last of his wine before he attempts to speak. “How long has that been going on for?”

 

“About a month.”

 

“Going well?”

 

“Really well, thanks.” He looks as if he’s about to say more, but is once again halted by the arrival of their waiter.

 

“Can I get you anything else?” Jiyong looks at Seunghyun and then down at his watch. Seunghyun does the same, realising that a fair few hours have passed since they first arrived at the bar. Hours that he’s technically paying for, on top of the drinks, so he doesn’t object when Jiyong says;

 

“We should probably head off, so the bill would be great. Cheers.”

 

The waiter disappears and they’re left staring at each other.

 

“Would you mind if I head off? Got an early start tomorrow.” He then says, with a grimace. It’s posed as a question but Jiyong is already shrugging his shoulders back into his jacket without waiting for Seunghyun’s answer.

 

“Sure.”

 

“Listen, I’m gonna text you. I’ll see you soon.” He leans over to hug Seunghyun, who breaths in deep to smell the cologne on his neck. “Thanks for paying.” He says with a wink. Seunghyun is then left watching him weave his way through the tables, left to consider how much Jiyong actually means to him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If he thought his life couldn’t get any weirder than that night, he thought wrong. It took a few days for Jiyong to message him, but once he did it was with an invitation to have dinner at his flat.

 

 

Jiyong: come round and meet Daniel tomorrow! bring someone if you like :)

 

 

Daniel, he gathers, is Jiyong’s latest fling. It’s a stupid name; _Daniel._ Normal and boring. Nevertheless, he finds himself striding up to Jiyong’s boyfriend’s flat, a bottle of wine in one hand and the waist of his receptionist from work in the other. He invited her on an impulse, regretting it immediately after. But here they are, stood at the door arm in arm. Daniel must earn a fair amount, because the building is _nice._ The kind of place Eun Hee and him would’ve snapped up in a heartbeat. Once Jiyong opens the door, with open arms and barely disguised surprise at seeing the girl on Seunghyun’s arm, it becomes apparent that the flat is even nicer than Seunghyun first thought.

 

Much to his chagrin, Daniel is just as good looking as his flat. A well groomed beard that Seunghyun himself would never be able to grow is the first thing he notices, and it sets his teeth on edge. Any attitude that he would have held towards the other man, though, falls away very quickly.

 

“You must be Seunghyun!” He beams, turning to Seunghyun’s date. He pauses, waiting for Seunghyun to introduce her.

 

“Emily. This is Emily.”

 

“Great!” He answers, before leading them further into the flat. The receptionist trots after Seunghyun, and not for the first time that night he wonders why he brought her. Already he knows he isn’t going to give her the attention she deserves tonight, and has accepted that a few awkward days at work will follow this evening. He’s not given long to think about that, though, as the pair of them are sat down at a table. It’s the kind of dining table that people with their lives together own; placemats and folded napkins, two sets of knives and forks for every plate. It’s so unlike Jiyong that Seunghyun almost scoffs out loud.

 

It doesn’t take much time for food to be placed in front of them, for Daniel and Jiyong to slide into the chairs opposite them and their wine glasses to fill up. Daniel is charming and handsome, and his cooking is _good._ It’s impossible to hold a grudge against him, unfortunately for Seunghyun. But despite Daniel’s impeccable hosting skills, there’s a growing sense of unease within him. Because Jiyong looks so damn happy, with a smile that he no longer hides behind his hands and wrinkles around the corners of his eyes.

 

This unease reaches a crescendo when he gets back to his flat that night, slamming the door shut and sliding down to the floor. How does he stand a chance now? But above that, what right does he have to interrupt Jiyong’s happiness?

 

This new-found apathy carries on for the next few days, and all he wants to do is wallow in bed and wrap up in his self pity. Things never go as planned, though, and he’s forced to leave his flat for something other than work when Soohyuk’s birthday comes up; meeting their group of friends at an expensive sushi restaurant. He looks down at the menu and winces, still awaiting his first income from his new job and having forked out a shedload the other week to pay for Jiyong’s time. The lighting is low so he moves the menu into a better spot but, no, he’s still going to need to sell a limb.

 

A hand lands on his shoulders and he looks over, seeing Soohyuk leaning discretely into him.

 

“It’s on me, mate.”

 

“It’s _your_ birthday.” Seunghyun hisses back. He’s sick of this, of being so pathetic and dependent. Soohyuk just rolls his eyes.

 

“Fine. Pay me back later or whatever. But I’m not having you sitting here moping the whole night so at least get drunk.” He replies, pointedly looking away from Seunghyun. He tries to think of something as a rebuttal, but is interrupted by Donghwi.

 

“Seunghyun,” He starts with. His eyes are bright, and Seunghyun knows exactly what’s about to come next. If looks could kill, Donghwi would be a corpse on the floor with police chalk drawn around him. “How did it go the other night?”

 

There’s a giant grin stretching over his face as all eyes around the table turn towards Seunghyun. It was a completely innocuous question, but he feels his face turn a deep shade of red. He might as well have murdered his friend there and then since he feels under all the pressure of a police interview.

 

“Fine.” He says, firmly. But instead of taking the hint to zip it, Donghwi carries on.

 

“So Seunghyun called me for the number of an escort service.”

 

The whole table resounds with a chorus of ‘ _what?’_ s, the loudest of which coming from Soohyuk who leans precariously far back in his chair. Seunghyun’s mind starts to spin at a 100mph, weighing up all the possible escape routes for this conversation. He goes for a joke, which, given his dry sense of humour, may not have been the best option.

 

“I’m just really lonely.” He says. No one laughs, instead even more questions are thrown at him. There’s no way out of this that he can see, other than making a quick dash for it. So he excuses himself for the toilet, with a little more attitude than he intended, and spends the next five minutes hovering about the cubicles.

 

Eventually he slides back into his seat, grateful that the conversation carries on around him. He manages to get the gist of the conversation; they’re talking about a girl Kyungil has a borderline obsession with, so he doesn’t bother engaging with it. He can feel Soohyuk’s gaze on his shoulders though, as he stares intently at the menu. That gaze keeps coming back to him for the rest of the night, coming to a head once he nips outside for a cigarette.

 

“Gimme one.” Soohyuk says, making his way over to where Seunghyun is perched on the wall. Seunghyun obliges, handing out the pack for his friend to slip one out. “Had no idea you were so lonely.” He says, after settling on the wall next to Seunghyun. It comes with a small laugh, but he can tell Soohyuk is tip-toeing around him.

 

“Are you ok?”

 

Seunghyun sighs. It’s now or never.

 

“It was Jiyong I met.”

 

“Why did you need an escort service for that?” Soohyuk asks.

 

“Jiyong is…sometimes, he does that thing.”

 

There’s a long pause.

 

“Oh, I…there’s a lot that makes sense now. Wow.” Smoke makes its way up into the air as they sit in silence. “How is he?”

 

“He’s good. Met his new boyfriend.” Seunghyun answers. He’s beating around the bush, doing anything to delay the inevitable.

 

“That’s nice.”

 

“I like him.” He confesses. Seunghyun’s eyes are shut tight, and he swallows hard. It’s dawning on him that this is him _coming out_ for the first time. When he’s not even sure what he’s coming out to.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Like, _like_ him.”

 

He can sense Soohyuk stiffen beside him, and he opens his eyes to find the other man staring at him. Seunghyun can’t remember the last time he felt his heart beat.

 

“Well, have you told him?” Soohyuk says, slowly. His face says he wants to say a thousand more things, ask a million more questions, but he doesn’t. Seunghyun’s heart goes back to a gentle thud and he lets out the breath he’d been holding in. It takes him back to when they were teenagers, Soohyuk had told him he was gay himself after wringing his hands for an hour and near-tearing his hair out.

 

“No. Like I said, he’s seeing someone.” Seunghyun says. He lets out a small laugh at how pathetic he sounds.

 

“Jesus. You have the luck of a Kennedy. But so what?” Soohyuk asks. He sighs. “When I was with him it always seemed like he liked you more.” That comes with a shrug, and leaves Seunghyun with a lot more to think about.

 

“And you don’t mind? About me…and him?” Seunghyun asks, slowly. He keeps his gaze fixed on his feet dangling from the wall. There’s a slight pause, but finally Soohyuk replies.

 

“Of course not. You know me.”


	13. The Theory of Planned Behaviour

He knows that at some point in time, Jiyong definitely liked him. He has the other man’s testimonial to prove that. And in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t even that long ago. If the big bang was 14 billion years ago, then a couple of months are nothing. But that still doesn’t do away with the fact that Jiyong has seemingly moved on. And not just moved on in the self-positivity bullshit people say to cover up their deep-down insecurities and regrets. Moved on in the sense that he’s happier, now. Happier than Seunghyun has seen him in forever, really.

 

The part of him that values Jiyong’s friendship is happy for the other man. Truly happy. He remembers the first time he met Jiyong; how fragile and uncertain he seemed. Now it’s different. He’s a little bit self possessed, a little bit put together. Seunghyun can only assume that that’s Daniel’s doing. There’s a larger part of him though, a jealous monster that’s threatening to rear its ugly head. It’s this side to his psyche that spurs him on, that stops him shaking hands once more with apathy and depression. One day they’ll break up, he convinces himself. Even the best of relationships can fail. All he has to do is wait.

 

Over the next few months, though, he watches the very opposite happen. Brought into Jiyong’s social circle again, they visit bars and galleries like they used to. Only this time Daniel’s in tow. Or rather, Seunghyun is the one in tow. The third wheel, watching them hold hands from behind, or glancing away to avoid the way they peck on each others’ cheeks. It’s a stab to the gut every time, but he’s unable to pull away; feels himself getting pulled further and further into Jiyong every time they meet. He’s tempted to start dodging Jiyong’s calls, but he can’t. In short, he’s fucking miserable. And there’s nothing he can do about it.

 

Well, from _his_ point of view there’s nothing he can do about it. From Soohyuk’s, who quickly gets tired of Seunghyun’s whining and complaining, there’s plenty he can do.

 

 

 

“Just tell him that you like him!” He says, grabbing Seunghyun by the shoulders. Shaking them vigorously, he carries on. “Give him the option of you or Daniel. It’s really that simple.”

 

“But I don’t know if he still likes me!” Seunghyun argues back. It all seems so _clear_ to him, that he’s stunned Soohyuk is still suggesting this. “Every time we meet up, he always brings Daniel along.” He sighs, flopping down onto Soohyuk’s sofa. The beer in his hand threatens to froth over the top, and he sets it down on the coffee table quickly.

 

“So wha-“ Soohyuk begins to say, but Seunghyun isn’t going to listen to any more of Soohyuk’s reasoning.

 

“And this guy’s gorgeous. Like, objectively handsome. And he has a great life, and he’s super outgoing, and…” Seunghyun trails off, aware of the peculiar look Soohyuk is giving him. “Just… even if Jiyong still likes me, why would he choose me over Daniel?” By the time he’s finished speaking, Seunghyun’s head ends up in his hands. Every time he meets Daniel he’s painfully reminded of how woefully inadequate he is next to the other man. This is the first time he’s said it out loud to someone, though.

 

“You know, I still can’t believe that we’re having these kind of conversations.” Soohyuk says, after a pause. He scrapes a chair away from the dining table and sits on it, crossing his legs and folding his hands. He’s topped up his own beer, and reaches over to hand another one to Seunghyun. It’s beginning to feel eerily like his therapy sessions. “You. Gay. My ex-boyfriend.” Soohyuk clarifies. “Mainly the gay part.”

 

“I don’t really know if I _am_ gay, though.” Seunghyun says, raising his head out of his hands. The thought hasn’t so much been eating away at him these past few months, as it has been ripping him apart limb from limb.

 

“Huh?” Soohyuk asks. “You’re pining after another guy. That’s gay.”

 

“Yeah, but it’s just Jiyong.”

 

“What?”

 

“Jiyong’s the only guy that, you know…Just, I’ve been thinking a lot about it.” Seunghyun explains. Without the alcohol in his system, he wouldn’t dream of saying any of this. But he can’t seem to keep his mouth shut, and it feels good to finally tell someone that isn’t paid to listen. “I’ve only ever been attracted to two people, really. Like, literally no one has ever caught my eye apart from Eun Hee and Jiyong.”

 

Soohyuk sighs.

 

“Your Art degree is crying right now, Seunghyun. Sexuality doesn’t begin and end at gay and straight. There’s a whole range of different ways to be. You’re somewhere on there. Maybe you just need to know someone before becoming attracted to them.” Soohyuk’s tone is bordering on patronising, but Seunghyun doesn’t mind too much. It feels like a weight off his chest, and he trusts Soohyuk when it comes to these things. “Although, that doesn’t explain why you were never attracted to me.” Soohyuk jokes.

 

But then in a heartbeat, his tone is sober again.

 

“But since you are so new to this gay thing, I’m gonna need to see Daniel.” He says, with all sincerity. “Just to confirm whether he’s all you claim him to be.”

 

“I swear to God, I will die before that happens.” Seunghyun replies, laughing. Soohyuk laughs too, but he doesn’t let up.

 

“I always get my way eventually.” He says, tilting up his beer to say _cheers_.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Whilst he may not have full clarity on his sexuality, he is fully aware that it is becoming harder and harder to spend time with Jiyong. He ignores Soohyuk’s demands to meet Daniel, that being literally the last thing he wants, but it doesn’t stop every meeting with the pair feeling like pure torture. Jiyong is so close and yet so far away, and falling for the other man more and more is becoming exhausting.

 

If Ajzen’s theory of planned behaviour is anything to go by though, attitudes eventually lead to behaviour. And mediating his behaviour around Jiyong is becoming just as hard; he’s often keenly aware that he’s smiling or laughing too much, looking for excuses to tough the other man. Sometimes he can’t even tear his gaze away from him. He’s _intoxicating,_ more so than any spirit or wine that Seunghyun has ever poured down his throat. Sometimes he slips up, too. Jiyong still sometimes covers his gummy smile with his hand, and the first time Seunghyun sees this he pulls it away without thinking. As soon as he sees the way Daniel is looking at them, though, he drops Jiyong’s wrist as fast as possible.

 

It’s starting to eat into his daily life; ruining his day when he sees an Instagram post, thinking about Jiyong when he should be focused on the clients in front of him. He can’t remember ever feeling this way towards Eun Hee, but then he’d never been in a situation where he couldn’t have her. He feels like a child with a toy, watching someone else play with what he’s discarded. Not that Jiyong is a toy. And not that he wants to go anywhere near thinking about Daniel _playing_ with Jiyong.  

 

And on top of all this, asking the receptionist on a date finally comes back to bite him in the arse. They’re at a work party when it happens, he’s a few too many drinks gone - and she’s likely double that - as she has him cornered at the bar.

 

“Why didn’t you message after that night?” She asks. It’s a little bit slurred and comes with a big pout, and her stool tilts precariously as she leans into him. He’s grateful for the alcohol in his system; sober Seunghyun would be falling all over himself looking for an answer.

 

“Ah…” He says, stalling for time. He scratches at the sticker on his drink as he thinks.

 

“Sexually frustrated.” She states. Seunghyun has no idea where that came from.

 

“Huh?”

 

“People who do that when they’re drinking are supposed to be sexually frustrated.” She clarifies, as if it’s meant to be common knowledge. This is the most coherent Seunghyun has heard her all night.

 

“No, I’m fine.” He laughs, dropping his hands away from his beer. She pouts again.

 

“You didn’t answer my question.”

 

“Look…” He pauses, realising that he isn’t absolutely certain that he remembers her name correctly. Rubbing his neck, he decides to carry on without it. “I’ve just been busy.”

 

It’s a half truth, but she doesn’t need to know the whole truth and nothing but it. Regardless, it seems to suffice. She purses her lips but doesn’t press any further. Sadly, this doesn’t mean that she leaves him alone. Instead it seems that she’s stuck to his side, and Seunghyun is again struck by just how much she resembles Jiyong. They even share the same habits; nibbled fingernails and gummy smiles, loud laughs and quick thoughts that aren’t even slowed by alcohol.

 

He misses Jiyong, and the alcohol in his system only heightens that. So he knocks back even more drinks, and as the night draws to a close finds himself stumbling up to her flat. Because in his drunken-minded state it is _infinitely_ better than going home alone.

 

This will be the first time he’s done this kind of thing, and there’s a small voice at the back of his mind asking whether he really should be doing this. It gets louder as she fumbles with his belt, even louder as she moves her head downwards, reaching a crescendo when several minutes pass and - _nothing_. 

 

He can’t get it up.

 

Not even the alcohol is enough to numb his embarrassment as she looks up at him, confused.

 

“Sorry.” He mutters. She stands up, wiping her mouth with her hand. “Must’ve drunk too much.”

 

“Maybe we should just sleep?” She asks, quietly. Seunghyun doesn’t even try to hide the relief in his voice when he replies.

 

“Yeah.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After that terrible encounter, his work life becomes awkward to the point of unbearable. And outside of work is going in a similar direction, if this evening is anything to go by. The last thing he wants is to be sandwiched in between Soohyuk and Jiyong for an evening, especially with Jiyong’s new beau involved. Nevertheless, he ends up giving in to Soohyuk’s pressure (it doesn’t take much; the mere mention of tickets to a Murakami exhibition has Seunghyun making a deal with the devil). Which is how he finds himself standing in a long line, Soohyuk by his side, unable to stay still. Jiyong is about 20 minutes late already, and the extra time is doing nothing to calm his agitated nerves.

 

“ _Stop moving!_ ” Soohyuk hisses. “You’re being so dramatic.” He rolls his eyes at that. Seunghyun can’t agree with him, though. He knows his friend well, knows that his particular brand of humour all too often involves making Seunghyun as uncomfortable as possible. For the past week he’s had to endure Soohyuk’s jokes about being his wingman, jokes which only stopped once his friend realised that Seunghyun really might withdraw his agreement.

 

“I just know you’re going to make it weird.” Seunghyun argues, shaking his head. “Just don’t do-“ He’s interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. Spinning around, he’s greeted by Jiyong who stands there, panting.

 

“Sorry we’re so late.” He says, breathlessly. His hair is messy and his face is flushed, but he looks good. So good, in fact, that Seunghyun is a little bit lost for words. He’s aware that he’s just staring at Jiyong, but with no shadow from Daniel following Jiyong, he finds it hard to stop. Several heartbeats pass before Jiyong turns to Soohyuk instead.

 

“Hi.” He says, slowly. There’s no tone behind it, no angle. He’s just testing the waters.

 

“Hey, Ji.” Soohyuk replies, with a reluctant smile. Watching their exchange, Seunghyun becomes painfully aware that he was the reason for their breakup, even if Soohyuk doesn’t know that yet (and will hopefully _never_ know, if Seunghyun can help it). The air is a little bit tense, but before the situation can get too awkward they spot Daniel jogging towards them.

 

“He had to park the car.” Jiyong explains, offering a wide smile as Daniel gets closer. Once he reaches them, his hand slides into Jiyong’s. And what Seunghyun would give to have his own hand there instead, Jiyong’s smile directed at him instead. He barely pays attention as Jiyong introduces Daniel, but he has all senses tuned into Soohyuk’s reaction. Seunghyun isn’t entirely sure what to expect from it. Jiyong by the looks of it isn’t sure either, still holding Daniel’s hand possessively. Perhaps the last thing they both would’ve put money on though, was Soohyuk actively _flirting._

“Hi.” He smiles, turning on his charm offensive and reaching out to shake Daniel’s hand. A look flits over Jiyong’s face to show that he’s analysing every nanosecond of this interaction, and he looks at Soohyuk warily. Both of them know how slick Soohyuk can be. Finally the queue starts to move and they shuffle along. It just so happens that they end up in pairs; Daniel with Soohyuk, and Seunghyun with Jiyong. The queue stutters again and they stay in their formation. He can see Soohyuk trying to engage Daniel in conversation, and doesn’t miss the way Jiyong is looking at them either.

 

“Got any gigs coming up?” He asks, mainly trying to distract Jiyong from what’s in front of them. Jiyong snorts in response, but Seunghyun’s plan works as he tears his gaze away from the two men in front of them.

 

“Kinda given that up.” He says, running a hand through his hair. “Wasn’t really going anywhere.”

 

“Oh.” Seunghyun replies, thinking about his next response. “Was that really the point?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I thought it was just for fun.”

 

Again, Jiyong snorts.

 

“Some point you gotta grow up, right?”

 

Seunghyun cant decipher the look on Jiyong’s face, and isn’t given much chance to either as Daniel whips around to join the conversation.

 

“What are you guys talking about?” He asks. When Jiyong doesn’t answer, Seunghyun does for him.

 

“Jiyong’s band.”

 

“Oh Christ, what was that called again? Spandex ballet?” Daniel jokes, looking to Jiyong for confirmation. Jiyong laughs it off, but Seunghyun can see that his face becomes a little flushed. Seunghyun laughs along too, but he’s getting a funny taste in his mouth.

 

“Hey, our names were never that bad.”

 

“ _Names,_ plural.” Soohyuk butts in, laughing. “You changed names almost as quickly as you changed guys.”

 

It’s clear immediately that Soohyuk has taken the joke too far, if the way Jiyong’s face completely shuts down is anything to go by. There’s silence; Daniel looks taken aback and Seunghyun, well, Seunghyun might have stopped breathing.

 

“God, _why_ did I think meeting you again was a good idea?” Jiyong breaks the silence. He’s refusing to look at Soohyuk, shaking his head. He goes to move, but Soohyuk reaches out a hand to stop him.

 

“ _Sorry._ I’m sorry.” He says. Seunghyun has to give him points for his show of sincerity, whether it’s real or not. “You know how bad my sense of humour is.”

 

It works to placate Jiyong, and thankfully the queue starts to drag them along before he can consider leaving again. They’re squished into the crowd now, getting close to the entrance when Jiyong speaks again. It’s quiet and clearly not intended for Soohyuk nor Daniel’s ears.

 

“Gave up the other stuff last week, too.” He mutters.

 

“Oh, the…” Seunghyun trails off, remembering that Daniel knows nothing about Jiyong’s other occupation.

 

“Yeah. Figured it was a good idea before anyone found out, ya know?” Jiyong explains. Seunghyun can have a good stab in the dark at who _anyone_ is directed at. “Besides, if an idiot like you could find me through it, who knows how many other creeps would also be able to find me.”

 

He winks at Seunghyun, and then worms his way through the crowd to join the other two. Seunghyun just watches him go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” Soohyuk asks, sliding onto the chair opposite Seunghyun. They agreed to meet the day after the event for a _‘de-briefing’_ , as Soohyuk called it.

 

“Bad.” Seunghyun says, assuredly.

 

“So, Daniel is really great. Great jawline, great guy to talk to. And I saw a bicep through his shirt.”

 

Seunghyun sighs; this is what he’d been expecting to hear, but not what he wanted. A waiter comes over with their food and Soohyuk says thanks for the both of them; Seunghyun is too busy thinking about Daniel’s biceps.

 

“Good?”

 

Soohyuk puts his knife and fork down before he’s even begun eating, grips the edge of the table and leans forward as he says eagerly;

 

“They’re not in love.”

 

It feels like time stands still. Soohyuk is acting as if he’s struck gold, but Seunghyun is wary of believing him.

 

“What? Daniel told you that?” He demands Soohyuk to explain.

 

“ _No._ No one told me.” Soohyuk rolls his eyes. Time starts again, and Seunghyun flops back into his chair, defeated.  “But it’s obvious. They like each other, clearly. But that’s not love.”

 

“How the hell is it obvious?” Seunghyun massages his temples. His friend is driving him crazy.

 

“The way they look at each other!” Soohyuk says, as if that should explain everything. When Seunghyun’s expression doesn’t change, he carries on.

 

“Look. Urgh.” Soohyuk makes a retching sound, putting down his knife and fork again. “All I’m trying to say, is that Daniel doesn’t look at Jiyong with half the intensity of how you look at Jiyong.

 

“Jesus, if I ever look at someone the way you look at Jiyong, shoot me and bury my body next to Karl Marx’ in Highgate cemetery.” He mutters, moving food around his plate. “All love does is lead to pain.”

 

“Hey, I never said I was in love.” Seunghyun contends. Soohyuk just rolls his eyes.

 

“Whatever. You should tell him that you love him.” He replies, pointedly ignoring Seunghyun.

 

Seunghyun stays silent; Soohyuk has given him a lot to think about, but he can’t possibly tell Jiyong.

 

“Well then it’s that or you just stop seeing him, I guess. Cut him off and move on.”

 

“I can’t do that.” Seunghyun mutters. This isn’t the first time that thought has crossed his mind, but every time it does he quickly shuts it down.

 

“Why not?” Soohyuk asks, sighing. When Seunghyun doesn’t answer, Soohyuk does for him. “Exactly, you’re in love.”


	14. Passive

It’s in a meeting with a buyer when his phone goes off for the first time that day. A loud ‘ _ding_ ’ that draws everyone’s attention to him as well as several vibrations that echo through the glass table. Quickly, he flicks it on silent, muttering a very apologetic _sorry_ as he does so.

 

“It’s no problem.” The buyer smiles. Seunghyun likes this man; he’s got wide, easily conjured smiles and a gentle personality. Much easier to deal with than the trust-fund babies he’s usually tasked to look after. His manager, a slightly more tense and stressed man than the other, is placated by this and doesn’t shoot Seunghyun the usual glare. Neither of them mind when the buyer then goes on to say that they’re done for the day. If only everything in life could go this smoothly.

 

“Of course, it’s all up to you.” Seunghyun’s manager replies. They go back and forth, being painfully polite and exchanging ‘ _it’s_ _fine’_ s and ‘ _no worries_ ’s _,_ before the three of them stand up together. Seunghyun quickly shuffles the papers together on the table and gathers them in his hand, whilst his manager offers to walk the other man out. He signals to Seunghyun with a nod of his head, who hurriedly scrambles up the rest of the papers and joins the two of them.

 

As they’re walking, Seunghyun slows his pace, lagging behind the two of them so he can slip out his phone. It’s unprofessional of him, but he’s never had great impulse control. All it takes though is one glimpse of the messages and he’s wishing that he’d stopped himself. Three messages from Jiyong, each of them short.

 

 

Jiyong: omg guess what

 

 

Seunghyun rolls his eyes.

 

 

Jiyong: ok…I’ll just tell you

 

 

Gives an exasperated sigh.

 

 

Jiyong: Daniel just asked me to move in with him!

 

 

He isn’t even aware that he’s stopped walking until his manager turns around to look for him.

 

“Seunghyun?” He prompts. It breaks Seunghyun out of his trance, and he slips his phone back into his pocket. His manager looks both perplexed and exasperated, but Seunghyun can’t find it within himself to care. Can’t shake off the feeling that he’s lost something, that someone has just pulled the rug from underneath his feet and left him dangling in midair.

 

The day passes with typo ridden emails and coffee spilt down his shirt. He leaves at 6pm with the solid intention of diving right into bed, staying submerged until the next ice age appears. When he gets home though, his mind has other plans for him. His thoughts refuse to shut off, going round in a circle of what he should have done differently, should have realised sooner.

 

He should have seen this coming, really. The warning signs were there; perhaps not tangible or observable, but over the past few months he’s come to feel like he’s hanging onto Jiyong by his fingernails, watching the other man gravitate closer and closer towards someone else. But he didn’t. And now they’re not breaking up, like he once hoped that they would.

 

With too many thoughts to think, he texts Soohyuk instead.

 

 

Seunghyun: they’re moving in together

 

 

Soohyuk doesn’t need to ask who _they_ are, and replies pretty quickly. He’s expecting sympathy, but there’s a complete lack of the kind in Soohyuk’s reply.

 

 

Soohyuk: so what?

 

Soohyuk: Jiyong moved in w/ me and look what happened

 

Soohyuk: give that boy a nice meal and a glass of wine and he’ll say yes to anything

 

Soohyuk: just. Tell. Him.

 

 

Seunghyun grits his teeth. He regrets talking to Soohyuk now, and sends a message back that tries to convey his annoyance.

 

 

Seunghyun: why should I tell him now? He’s clearly moved on, why else would he be moving in with this dickhead?

 

 

Almost as soon as it comes up as _delivered_ , Soohyuk is face-timing him. He accepts the call, greeted by his friend’s face. There’s a lot of noise around him, and Seunghyun gathers that he’s at a bar.

 

“Dongwhi roped me into watching a match with him.” Soohyuk confirms, explaining the cheering going on behind him.

 

“We don’t have to talk if you’re busy.” Seunghyun says. That isn’t what he means, though. To his relief, Soohyuk seems to understand.

 

“It’s fine. I’m struggling to stay awake.”

 

“Hey, Seunghunnie!” Dongwhi butts in, waving a hand across the screen.

 

“To answer your question.” Soohyuk says, ignoring their friend and getting them back on topic. He has a familiar look on his face; eyebrows poised and the corner of his mouth turned upwards. Seunghyun knows he’s in for a lecture. “Most people use something called _emotional intelligence_.”

 

The tone he adopts is patronising. Sometimes he acts as if Seunghyun was born just a few hours ago.

 

“ _I_ think he still likes you, but since he thinks that you’re as straight as a beanpole, he’s trying to get over you by carrying on with Daniel.” Soohyuk carries on, ignoring the way Seunghyun’s face involuntarily sets into the physical embodiment of a sigh.

 

“This is pure speculation.” Seunghyun contends, finding it hard to believe that Jiyong still has feelings for him. Not to mention hard to believe that Soohyuk, with an emotional range that stems from one of two states; hungry or horny, knows what it is to use emotional intelligence. Not sharing his opinion, Soohyuk sighs back at him.

 

“Who’s straight as a beanpole?” Dongwhi asks from the distance. Soohyuk smiles, and a lie runs off his tongue quicker than Seunghyun even has time to think.

 

“This guy I like.” He says. It seems to placate Dongwhi, who likely wasn’t even listening. He turns back to Seunghyun in an instant. Despite the beer in front of him, everything about him is sober as he tells Seunghun; “Seriously. You have nothing to lose, tell him.”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maybe he should. But then again, maybe he should just bury his head two feet into the ground. He has neither the will power nor a shovel for that, though.

 

 

Seunghyun: I’m gonna tell him tonight

 

 

He sends to Soohyuk, just a few days later. He’d read somewhere that telling other people your goals made you more likely to complete them, and he needs all the self-help tips he can get at the moment. He gets an instant reply.

 

 

Soohyuk: thank god, finally

 

 

 _God_. Seunghyun could use a bit of his help right now.

 

He’d like to say that he’s thought about what he’s going to say, that he’s architected the situation with a precision appropriate for events of this magnitude. But every time he thinks about it he feels his heartbeat stutter, tangible anxiety in his stomach. He tries to rationalise it, asks himself _what’s the worst that can happen?_ But the worst that can happen is Jiyong never speaking to him again. Seunghyun never getting over him, living out his life in solitude with only a cat for company. Eventually he will become the strange old man that the neighbourhood children make up rumours about, the man everyone feels sorry for when they see him walking hunched over his cane back to a house without even a cat, because cats don’t live as long as humans, do they?

 

So there’s a lot of _worsts_ that can happen.

 

He tries not to think about any of them as he’s waiting for Jiyong. Instead he picks at the cuticles on his nails, shakes his leg to stave off the anxiety. He chose a bar again - for such a momentous occasion - but is now starting to regret it. Perhaps he’s over thinking it, but what extra meaning does it convey? He’s neither sure nor keen to find out, given that he has no other option now.

 

At some point between tearing his nails to shreds and gulping down luke-warm beer, Jiyong plops his body down into the seat opposite him.

 

“Alright?” He asks.

 

 _No,_ Seunghyun’s mind replies.

 

“Yeah.” He verbalises. It comes out husky, and he clears his throat in response.

 

“I’ll just go get a drink.” Jiyong says, working his card out of his wallet and hopping off again.It offers Seunghyun a brief respite, but still does nothing to calm his nerves. He watches Jiyong at the bar, his mind in a constant relay between his fight or flight responses.

 

Before he can choose flight, Jiyong returns to the table and they have a stab at making some small talk. It’s stuttered and slow, though, as Seunghyun has other things on his mind. He watches Jiyong’s drink steadily go from full to empty, watches it be replaced by another – and then another – and matches him drink for drink.

 

Finally, he decides that it’s time, when Jiyong’s face is starting to become a little flushed and his thoughts are starting to slow down. There’s a natural lull in their conversation, and Seunghyun takes the plunge.

 

“I have something to tell you.” He says. He can’t bring himself to look the other man in the eyes, and instead fixes his gaze on the table top in front of them. There’s a bottle cap that he plays with, twirling it in his fingers as he thinks about his next move. He really was set on telling Jiyong the truth. But now, looking down the barrel of a gun, he’s beginning to change his mind. “Or ask you, rather.”

 

“Do you still like me?” He asks. It’s the coward’s way out. But then he always has been a coward.

 

In the space of a few seconds, Jiyong seems to pass through Kübler and Ross’ entire change curve. From shock, denial, anger to depression. Seunghyun doesn’t say anything, waiting for him to land in acceptance.

 

“Why would you ask me that?” He asks. He sounds like he’s accusing Seunghyun of something. If that is the case, then Seunghyun can’t really blame him. _Why_ would _he ask Jiyong that?_

 

“Sorry, I…” He starts to say, but quickly comes up short once realises that he doesn’t have an excuse. His mum always told him that honesty was the best policy. Soohyuk’s been telling him for weeks. Now he’s backed into a corner, a wounded animal, and it feels like honesty is his only way out, the only policy. “I asked you because I like you, I guess.”

 

“And I wanted to know what you would say before I told you, because you know me.” He carries on, the words tripping of his tongue now. “Take the easy route and all that.”

 

The face opposite him is expressionless. Neither angry – what he’d imagined in his worst case scenarios – nor happy – what he’d dreamed of in his best case scenarios. It’s just a face. Relaxed and normal. It’s a face that he’s seen so many times before, only it’s never given him so much anxiety before.

 

A weight has been lifted off his chest. He got the words out. He told Jiyong. Now he just needs the other man to _speak_.

 

When he does, after a few seconds that likely felt like an eternity to the both of them, Seunghyun wishes that he’d kept his mouth shut instead.

 

“Is that what the past few months have been about?” He asks, still in that accusatory tone that is making Seunghyun feel both unwelcome and unnecessary – in his honest opinion – guilt. There’s a fringe covering his eyes, but Seunghyun gets all the emotional cues he needs from Jiyong’s mouth; set in a tight, tight line. “Meeting me in that bar, hanging out with me and Daniel. Being so fucking _nice_ to me?”

 

“It’s not that. And if you’ve moved on, then I’ll still be nice to you!” Seunghyun replies, his words sounding meaningless even to his own ears. He watches Jiyong’s hands come up to his face, rubbing his eyes in exasperation.

 

“ _God_ , do you know how happy I would’ve been to hear this last year?” He asks, frustration bleeding through into his voice. “I thought I had no chance. I felt so fucking shit. And now you’re here, saying these things.” He laughs, but it sounds bitter.

 

“I tried so hard to get over you.”

 

The word _tried_ rings clear in Seunghyun’s ears.

 

“Are you?” He asks, Jiyong looks at him in confusion. “Are you over me?”

 

“I need time to think about it.” Jiyong answers.

 

“That’s fine.” Seunghyun affirms.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Any relief he might have felt from the open ended note they left it on is short lived, waking up to a text the next morning telling him that he’s missed his chance. It was sent at 3 minutes past 4 in the morning. Jiyong must have been thinking a lot.

 

He doesn’t reply.

 

At least he now knows that nothing is going to happen. He can start to move on, maybe start dating again (although, he hasn’t been on a _date_ date since he started University). Maybe he kind of expected this, or maybe he’s just become slightly numb to the constant torrent of shit that life seems to throw his way, but he’s ok. Soohyuk doesn’t believe it, but he’s ok. If he cries a little most nights following, that’s ok. It’s a normal response. And if he can’t get out of bed one morning, that’s also fine. Also a normal, albeit slightly dramatic, response.

 

He really is fine. Slowly resigning himself to live out the rest of his days in a state of mediocre autopilot. Not everyone’s lives work out the way they want them to. But at least he gave it a shot. He’s had a shit year, but he’s given it a shot. He carries on going into work, carries on eating and sleeping and breathing. Keeps the laundry pile low, looks at his horoscope every now and again. 

 

Above all though, he blocks Jiyong on whatever social media platforms he can think of, even deletes a few apps of his phone. It’s not out of spite, not at all. It’s because the last thing he wants is to see Jiyong’s twitter handle and be reminded of his face the last time they met.

 

Which is why, when Jiyong allegedly tries to contact him, he has no idea about it.

 

“So Jiyong called me today, asked me if you were ignoring him.” Soohyuk says. There’s a lot more that he isn’t saying. Seunghyun swallows.

 

“I’ve blocked him. Not out of spite, just think it’s best for me, you know?” He tells Soohyuk, explaining even though he wasn’t asked to explain.

 

“Ah. Said he’d tried to call you a couple of times.” Soohyuk clarifies. Still, a lot is left unsaid.

 

“Should I talk to him?” Seunghyun asks. Soohyuk snorts.

 

“It’s up to you, mate.”

 

 

It is up to him. And he wasn’t going to talk to him. Was going to ignore Jiyong’s attempts. But he has low self restraint and a personality bordering on self-destructive.

 

 

Seunghyun: you alright? Soohyuk said you were trying to talk to me

 

 

He sends, after a lot of deliberation.

 

 

Jiyong: you blocked me :(

 

Jiyong: I didn’t want us to stop being friends, does that really have to happen?

 

 

He gets back, quickly. Seunghyun doesn’t reply immediately; stares at the phone in his hand instead and wonders just how much force it would take to break it. Probably a lot.

 

Does that really have to happen? _Does it?_ He hears a twisted voice in the deep, dark recesses of his mind ask. _Probably_ , answers his rational self.

 

But his less rational, short-term gratification seeking self takes the reigns on this one.

 

 

Seunghyun: it’s ok.

 

 

He sends. He wants Jiyong’s attention. Any attention. Because at least, for the first time in days, he’s feeling something. And something is better than nothing, right?

 

 

Seunghyun: it doesn’t have to happen

 

 

Getting the answer he was looking for, Jiyong’s texts take on a much happier tone

 

 

Jiyong: good! Because I have a gig coming up

 

Jiyong: and I want you to be there with your rhythm-less hips and grandpa moves

 

Seunghyun: thought you weren’t doing those anymore

 

Jiyong: doing a favour for one of youngbae’s friends

 

Jiyong: I’ll send you the address + details when I get them. Please come :(

 

Jiyong: Daniel wont be there, and ill try not to bite soohyuk’s head off when you inevitably bring him

 

 

Seunghyun sighs aloud. It ricochets off the walls of his empty flat, through the lonely cupboards and the depressing Ikea furniture. It’s a sigh that says he’s already conceded to having a terrible night, but is going to go to this terrible night regardless of that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He keeps the news on the background as he’s getting ready. Depressing stuff; icecaps melting, wars and refugees, a woman found dead in her flat after three years. That last one sticks with him. Found by the TV licence authorities. Not even her landlord cared about the unpaid rent. Imagine, the people from the BBC being the only people to mourn over your dead body.

 

In between ironing his top – why he does this, he’ll never know. Soohyuk used to say this was the gayest thing about him. Not anymore though – and drinking his second glass of wine (there’s something about solitary pre-drinks), he pulls out his phone, thinking of sending a text to Eun Hee. On second thoughts he puts it away. That’s not him. The TV still reels off the news, this time about an actor who fell off his balcony. But Seunghyun no longer has a balcony.

 

Before a third thought can strike him he’s pulling on his freshly ironed clothes, shaking the last of his wine into his mouth and jamming his keys into his pockets. He double checks the door 3 times before leaving – he came home a few days ago to find the door wide open due to nothing but his own negligence. _What does that say about me?_ He asked his therapist at the time. She said he was probably just sleep deprived that day. 

 

He’s sleep deprived this day, too.

 

When he gets to the bar he’s supposed to be at, he’s already sweat through his newly washed top. It will have to go straight to the laundry when he’s home, and that alone is almost enough to ruin his night. _When did you get so boring?_ An imaginary Soohyuk sneers at him. Before he can offer a rebuttal to his imagination, stress that he’s not usually like this, a real, physical Soohyuk is next to him.

 

“You alright?” He asks.

 

 _Alright_ is a funny word.

 

“Yep.” Seunghyun replies. He really is alright, he supposes. Just nothing better.

 

“They’re probably all inside.” Soohyuk says. He looks at the bar, but makes no effort to lead them both in. “Fancy a cig, first?”

 

They smoke in silence, constantly jostled by the people streaming in and out of the bar. Unusually for England the weather is relatively warm and the street is filled with people enjoying it. He doesn’t belong to that group, though, with a mind that wont be quieted by the numerous pints he’ll throwback tonight, nor a carefree attitude to life that the rest of the bar’s patrons seem to carry on their shoulders.

 

Eventually he has to join them, puts on a face that says _I’m happy_ and makes his way into the bar. The smell of smoke clings to his fingernails, and he keeps his hand by his face so he can smell it; keeps him grounded rather than seeing him give into the ball of anxiety in his chest. Jiyong seems to have the same idea as him, necking back a shot at the bar with shaking hands.

 

“You alright?” Soohyuk asks him. _I’ve heard that before, somewhere,_ Seunghyun thinks.

 

“Hey! Yeah, I’m just a bit nervous.” Jiyong replies, breaking out into a large grin. The smile somewhat falters when he sees Seunghyun. “You alright?” He asks.

 

Seunghyun is stuck in an endless loop, now.

 

“Yep.” He replies.

 

It isn’t long – although the awkward hovering and forced small talk make it feel like several years – before the band is called on stage. _The Stone Roses_ ; Seunghyun would bet good money on that name already belonging to a well established band, but he says nothing. Instead his thumbs involuntarily rise in support, and he even hears himself mutter a few words of encouragement.

 

They’re still good. The music will never be Seunghyun’s thing, but Jiyong looks as if he were born to be on stage. Even Soohyuk seems captivated. It’s terrible.

 

Once they clamber down off stage an hour and a bit later, Seunghyun finds himself gravitating towards Jiyong’s band members instead. He can’t quite remember their names, but he has a vague memory of different hair styles on the two and uses this to spark up a conversation. It’s fairly dull, but he’ll take anything that will keep him preoccupied at the moment.

 

Even so, Jiyong’s voice keeps permeating their conversation, louder and slightly more slurred with every drink that goes into his little body. Seunghyun subconsciously ends up matching him drink for drink, albeit for different reasons. It’s not until much later in the night though that Jiyong comes staggering over to him, two pints jostling in his hands as he does so. He reaches Seunghyun and presses a cold glass into his chest. The condensation makes Seunghyun’s shirt damp.

 

“You, me. A conversation.” He says, pointing his hand in Seunghyun’s general direction. The man Seunghyun has been speaking to for the past hour looks like he’s about to protest, but Jiyong puts a finger on his lips. “ _Dae. It’s fine._ ” He whispers. Seunghyun can hear every word of it.

 

Without any more said, Jiyong has Seunghyun by the wrist and is leading him out through the bar. Seunghyun catches Soohyuk’s eye, who shoots him a look that asks _do you need help?_ But Seunghyun shakes his head in response. Maybe the alcohol did that for him.

 

The smoking area is emptier now as people start to leave the bar after last call. Nonetheless, Jiyong drags them to a secluded corner.

 

“I didn’t want this.” He slurs, leaning up against the wall. Seunghyun looks over his shoulder to the bouncers, worried they might not be let back in if Jiyong carries on like this. “You were supposed to tell me this months ago.”

 

“Sorry. It took me a while to realise.” Seunghyun answers. He’s not exactly sure what Jiyong wants or expects him to say to this.

 

“What made you realise?” He asks back.

 

Seunghyun shrugs.

 

“Various things.”

 

There’s a pause in their conversation. Jiyong looks down at his finger nails, Seunghyun down at his feet. They both look up when Jiyong asks;

 

“How can you be so passive about everything?”

 

Seunghyun’s neck hurts from how quickly his head snapped up at that.

 

“What?”

 

“You’ve given up just like that.” Jiyong sighs, as if it should have been obvious.

 

“I’m just tired.” Seunghyun sighs back, fairly adamant that _this_ at least should have been obvious. Jiyong squints into the distance, fingers pulling at the frayed threads in his ripped jeans.

 

“Still tired?”

 

“Still tired.” Seunghyun confirms.

 

 

 

 

 

He’s tired the next morning, too. And thank god this morning is a Saturday; having to deal with this headache outside might really be the thing that pushes him over the edge. Memories from the night before start to come back to him; a kebab shop with Soohyuk, kissing a girl with a cold-sore, and a conversation with Jiyong that is so blurred and fragmented it worsens his headache trying to piece it together.

 

He remembers one of Jiyong’s friends eventually pulling him inside before the bar closed, the reproachful look that was shot his way.

 

Eventually he leaves his memories in his bed, making his way to the shops to buy some food that can nurse him back to health. He walks out onto a zebra crossing without looking, and a car skids to a halt a few inches from him. Completely out of character, he lifts a finger in response. His right of way, any way. It’s a small action, but it feels a little bit exhilarating.

 

Once he reaches the other side of the road, Jiyong’s words from the night before finally come back to him.

 

_How can you be so passive about everything?_

 

 _If only Jiyong could see him now,_ Seunghyun thinks.

 

Those words don’t leave him in the supermarket, nor do they leave him when he gets home. It feels like a personal attack, making Seunghyun grit his teeth every time he thinks of it. He’s _not_ that passive, is he?

 

But then when a glass of wine is in his hand that night he lets himself think about it. There are countless times where he’s let other people have their way, or disregarded what he wanted because it’s just too hard to reach. And look at where it’s gotten him. It’s not until the second glass of wine in his hand that he takes action, though. He gets daily horoscope texts now, and today Sagittarians are supposed to carpé diem. Seize the bloody day.

 

 

Seunghyun: what if I try really hard

 

 

He sends to Jiyong. It’s without context, but Seunghyun doesn’t have the energy for that right now. Jiyong texts back straight away, and it makes Seunghyun sigh out loud.

 

 

Jiyong: what?

 

Seunghyun: you said I was too passive. What if I show you how much I like you?

 

 

He sends back. He hasn’t thought about it, sending the message off as soon as he typed the final character. As soon as _delivered_ comes up he regrets it, not helped by the eternity it takes for Jiyong’s next message to come through. Three dots come up to show that Jiyong is typing. Then they stop. Then start again.

 

 

Jiyong: then yes, you can take me on a date

 

 

Eventually comes through. Seunghyun places a hand on his chest; he’s not sure if he’s still breathing. The phone in his hand feels like it’s lying to him.

 

 

Jiyong: but im not jumping into bed with you. Prove how much you like me.

 

Seunghyun: and Daniel?

 

 

He hesitates before sending it, not wanting to jeopardize might just be happening right now. But he has to know, before he can get his hopes up.

 

 

Jiyong: let’s focus on this date first.  

 

Jiyong: I’m playing hard to get. So you better work your little bum off trying to get me.

 

 

Ok. He can work with this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i thought we could use some cheering up lol


	15. The Other Man

Seunghyun: where do you want to go?

 

 

 

 

After agonizing for days – how keen does he want to seem? Should he play hard to get, too? Does Jiyong really mean what he said? – he bites the bullet and sends Jiyong a message. The little blue bar spreads along the top of his screen and he feels something in his stomach. Butterflies, he realises, like a 14 year old girl seeing her crush for the first time. He hasn’t felt like this since he first asked Eun Hee out on a date, many years ago now. It still manages to feel exciting and nerve wracking, all at the same time.

 

 

 

 

Jiyong: pardon?

 

 

 

 

Comes back. As if he were standing right next to him, Seunghyun can almost hear Jiyong saying the words, see his lips moving over the syllables. It would come with a quirk of his eyebrows – probably the left, and a smug little smile that said he already knew what Seunghyun was going to say next.

 

 

 

 

Seunghyun: for our date

 

 

 

 

 _Date._ His fingers dance over the keyboard quicker than ever, pressing send as soon as the words are out before he can begin to question himself.

 

 

 

 

Jiyong: nu-uh. You decide.

 

 

 

 

He stares at the phone between his hands, flummoxed. He’s not the decider in any relationship, be it with partners or friends. He even tells the staff at Starbucks to decide for him.  

 

 

 

 

Seunghyun: but I’m bad at making decisions for myself, let alone for you too

 

 

 

 

Jiyong must see this, surely?

 

 

 

 

Jiyong: I don’t careeeeeee

 

 

 

 

Comes back. He slams his head down onto his desk, shaking everything on top of it and  earning him several looks from his colleagues around the room. . He offers them a meek smile, rubbing the spot on his forehead where there is sure to be a red mark appearing soon. Leaving the message unanswered, he tries to put this fresh dilemma to the back of his mind.

 

It doesn’t work (of course it doesn’t work), and that evening he takes the chance to get some professional, adult advice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Where should I take him?” He asks, fingers entwined in his hair, nails gently scraping at his scalp. A few flecks of dandruff land on his jumper and he brushes them off, lamenting himself for wearing black today. In front of him, sat with her legs crossed and the familiar ladder in her tights – does she ever buy knew ones?, his therapist narrows her eyes. Her glasses are perched just below the bridge of her nose, and she angles her gaze over them.

 

“This is what you want to talk about today?” She asks, looking down at her notes. Not for the first time does Seunghyun get curious about what they say. _Self destructive_ , maybe. _Confused_ , probably. _A hopeless idiot_ , most definitely. All written in her messy scrawl, one that makes it near impossible for him to decipher any of the words.

 

And yes – this _is_ what he wants to talk about today. Why can’t she see that? Finally he has a chance at being happy again, but Jiyong is still presenting him hoops to jump through, walls to climb over, and great swamps of shit to wade through. He needs her help, and he tells her that in no uncertain terms.

 

“Look. I’m not here to tell you what to do, to give you a manual for how to live your life. Get a life coach for that.” She pauses, letting a small smile spread across her lips at her own joke. “But I can tell you, just trust yourself, Seunghyun. Stop doubting every thought you have, everything you do. Give yourself a break.”

 

Her words make sense – although, that’s the way with everything she says. It’s through this therapy experience – or _journey,_ as his mum refers to it as – that he’s starting to realise just how easily swayed he is by other people, taking on other their opinions like a chameleon changes their skin. It’s not until his walk home that he usually starts to question her words during their sessions – and even after that he’ll still readily take on board everything she has to offer.

 

But something else is on his mind as he walks home this time, and he pulls out his phone as soon as he steps out of the door.

 

 

 

 

Seunghyun: ok, I’ll sort something out

 

 

 

 

He sends. But that’s just the easy part done. Brow furrowed in concentration, eyes fixed resolutely down at his feet, he spends the whole journey home deep in thought. Making decisions is one thing, but he doesn’t even have _options_ to consider. Everything he thinks of feels too cliché, too boring, or too try-hard. His therapists words ring in his ears, telling him to just stop doubting himself, but that’s a little easier said than done.

 

 _This isn’t just a date_ , he thinks. This isn’t just taking Eun Hee to a expensive restaurant, and it’s definitely not taking the girl from year 11  to the cinema one Saturday afternoon. There’s an overwhelming pressure he feels, to be cool enough, be exciting enough, to just simply be _enough_ for Jiyong.

 

Usually he likes to unwind in the evening. Wine, some crappy TV, and whichever pair of pyjamas are clean enough to wear. This evening it’s the houndstooth pyjamas – the ones Eun Hee used to hate, he recognises with a small smile, something mind-numbingly stupid on ITV,  and a £7 bottle of pinot grigio from the corner shop – Eun Hee got custody of their wine rack in the divorce. None of them serve their purpose this evening, though, and every time he looks at his phone he’s reminded of what he has yet to do.

 

 

 

Seunghyun: I need some first date ideas.

 

 

 

He sends to the whatsapp group Donghwi created, once more ignoring the conversation with Jiyong that he has yet to resume.

 

 

 

Seunghyun: don’t ask who. I’ll tell you if it goes well

 

Donghwi: a bar close to your flat. Preferably it should be close enough for her to stumble from the pavement into your bed – but that’s not always practical

 

 

 

\- Seunghyun swallows at ‘ _her’._

 

 

 

Kyungil: yes to the drinks and yes to the flat

 

Jaechun: do you just wanna get laid? Or

 

Kyungil: of course he wants to get laid! What fucking question is that

 

Jaechun: some of us have evolved beyond our purpose for reproduction.

 

 

 

Seunghyun puts his head in his hand. He’s asking the wrong people.  And then – as if sent by God himself, Soohyuk messages him privately.

 

 

 

Soohyuk: take him to a jazz café. He always wanted me to take him to one

 

 

 

He stares at the message for a while before replying, surprised.

 

 

 

Seunghyun: thanks, bud

 

Soohyuk: have fun ;)

 

Soohyuk: and stop worrying about it so much! It’s not life or death

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But, as he paces around his flat a week later, it sure feels like life or death. The second hand on the clock edges closer and closer to 9pm, closer and closer to a knock on his door and Jiyong on the other side of it. He’s finding it hard to swallow – spit gathering at the back of his throat, and it feels as if his heart may just leap out of his carefully chosen outfit (he even _ironed_ , for god’s sake). Before it can do so, though, two sharp knocks sound on the wood of his door.

 

He opens it more eagerly than he would’ve liked, but seeing Jiyong on the other side of the door frame takes away any regret that he may have felt from the action. His hair is back to black, now. Soft strands draping down his forehead, a bit of black liner on the rims of his eyes. Seunghyun had almost forgotten what it was like to look into those eyes, and he almost needs a map to get out of them.

 

“Hi.” Jiyong says, with a slight cough. Maybe this is Seunghyun seeing what he wants to see, but Jiyong looks really, truly, happy. “So, jazz?”

 

“Jazz. Yes.” Seunghyun just about manages to force out.

 

 

 

 

 

“I’ve wanted to go to this bar for so long, I’m so glad you chose this place.” Jiyong says, as they’re walking down the street. They’re walking side by side, and this has never been a problem before. But now there’s something between them, as if Seunghyun’s confession has manifested into a physical being that stands in the middle of them. He wants to get past it, brush his arm against Jiyong’s, settle into the other man’s rhythm.

 

For reasons that escape him, though, he stays firmly on the other half of the pavement.

 

“I’ve always wanted to go, too.” He says, making a very conscious decision to never, _ever_ , tell Jiyong that this was all Soohyuk’s idea. After that they fall into silence, and it’s not a comfortable one. Seunghyun is surprised that Jiyong can’t hear the synapses in his head firing away, searching for something, _anything_ , to say.

 

The only thing that comes to mind, though, is _God, you look good tonight._ It stays fixed on the tip of his tongue, threatening to come out every time he sneaks a glance at the man beside him.

 

A few streets down, during one of those discrete glances, he catches Jiyong looking back at him. He’s smiling at him, half bemused, half endeared.

 

“What?” He asks.

 

“You’re so shy.” Jiyong replies, looking away from Seunghyun and at the street in front of them. The smile stays on his face, though.

 

“Shy?”

 

“Look at the space between us!” He says, pointing to the empty air to his right. “I feel like we’re on a high school date. You asked my dad if it was ok to take me out tonight and he took you to the side for a polite word and told you that if you ever, _ever_ , touched his precious and pure first born daughter then he would castrate you there and then.”

 

Seunghyun listens to Jiyong, but he’s only half paying attention. The other half of his mind is racing, staring at the empty space between them. Once he hears silence again, he darts out a hand without thinking.

 

“Is this what you want?” He asks, holding Jiyong’s hand in his own. Jiyong looks down toward where their hands meet, his smaller hand grasped in Seunghyun’s own, larger hand. There’s a slight pause – Seunghyun asks himself _what the hell_ _is he doing._ Jiyong doesn’t ask that, though.

 

“This is nice.” Jiyong says, a small smile on his face. Seunghyun feels Jiyong’s thumb gently stroke the curve of his hand, where his thumb meets his forefinger. A smile spreads across his own face, now, and the gap between them gets a little bit smaller.

 

They hold hands until they reach the bar, and in the process Seunghyun stumbles upon one more thing to contend with. He’s very, very aware that he’s holding hands with a man. It’s 2017, yes. But he’s never had to do this before, never questioned every look that comes his way or turned around to see if a stranger is still staring. It makes his ears hot, the hairs on the back of his neck stand on edge, and ot’s because of this that he drops Jiyong’s hand before they enter the bar – it’s not even a conscious decision. Instinctively he doesn’t want to draw attention to them, to have eyes drawn to their hands and then watch those same eyes travel up to their faces.

 

If Jiyong is aware of any of this, though, he doesn’t show it. He slips into the bar as if he does this all the time – and Seunghyun supposes that he does. He can’t imagine the smaller man in front of him ever having the same identity crisis that he’s gone through over the past few months.

 

Before they take a seat, Jiyong looks at him expectantly. Seunghyun looks back, waiting for an explanation.

 

“You invited me on a date. That usually comes with a drink.” He says, winking.

 

“Oh – I, you’re right.” Seunghyun says, quickly.

 

“You know, just because I’m not a girl, it doesn’t mean you can’t be chivalrous and romantic towards me.” Jiyong says, before Seunghyun can move away. There’s a smile on his face and the words are light hearted, but it also feels as if Jiyong was reading his thoughts. He blushes. “And I can be towards you, too.” He says, the smile still dancing across his lips.

 

In the next instant Seunghyun feels fingers around his shoulders and looks around to see Jiyong working the jacket off his body. Once it’s off, draped around one of the wooden barstools they’ve chosen, Jiyong leans in to him. “Like that.” He whispers, and his breath hits Seunghyun’s face.

 

He’s glad to leave to go to the bar, giving his poor heart some time to catch its breath. The left side of his face still feels hot from Jiyong’s breath, and he presses his hand to hit in an attempt to cool it down.

 

One thing is for sure; Eun Hee never made him feel like this. That sets him on a dangerous train of thought, though, weaving his way around people to make his way to the bar. Thinking about his own past relationships gets him onto thinking about Jiyong’s situation – as all of his thoughts seem to invariably end up at Jiyong, nowadays. He’s here with him now, but he’s still very aware that there is another man in London who is waiting for Jiyong to text him, waiting for their next date.

 

He makes it back to Jiyong with two  glasses in his hands, those thoughts still niggling away at the back of his mind. Soft piano notes play in the background as he puts the wine down on the table, Jiyong’s eyes following his movements. He catches those eyes, and remembers just how long he has wanted for this to happen. That pushes all thoughts of another man out of the window, giving his full concentration to the one in front of him.

 

The hazel notes in Jiyong’s eyes are visible under the candlelight, his eyelashes soft and curved upwards, and a five o’clock shadow graces his jawline.

 

He’s in love, he thinks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And yet – for all of the smiles that come his way, the many times Jiyong’s hand brushes against his own, or his eyes linger on his own – he can’t get ride of the voice at the back of his head, niggling away at his thoughts until it’s all he can think about.

 

“So how is this going to work, you seeing me and…” He asks once they’re a couple of drinks down. Before finishing the sentence he pauses, not sure if he wants to carry on with the sentence, and not sure if he wants to put the other man into words. Jiyong looks at him honestly and, after a brief pause of his own, starts to speak.  

 

“The way I feel about you hasn’t changed.” He says. Seunghyun tries to maintain a poker face, his mind suddenly flooded with old memories. A club night where Jiyong went home crying, a sloppy kiss fuelled by alcohol, texts that he never replied to. “When I went home after you told me…” Jiyong pauses, “I was ready to give him up that instant to be with you.” Seunghyun swallows, loudly.

 

“But I’m tired of getting hurt. So forgive me if I exercise caution, this time.”

 

“That’s fine.” Seunghyun replies. He’s willing to be the other man for now, he realises. He still has reservations about it all – an overwhelming sense of guilt towards Daniel if he lingers too long on those thoughts,  it does feel as if  a weight has been lifted off of his chest, and he lifts up his glass of wine along with it. “Well, cheers.” He says, clinking it with the glass in front of him. Jiyong too looks relieved as he smiles at Seunghyun from across the table, his chin resting in his hand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

They stumble home from the bar in a similar fashion to how they walked in; hand in hand, step matching step. Subtly Jiyong takes the lead, walking confidently ahead despite the sway in his step and the hiccups that heave his chest violently up and down.

 

 _Cute._ Seunghyun thinks, stretching out the single syllable. For all of Jiyong’s confidence, his swagger, and his charisma, Seunghyun is starting to find him cuter and cuter as the night goes by. From the way his smile never fails to reach his smile, to the slim shoulders that perch upon his slender frame, everything about him is endearing.

 

He giggles to himself, and then stops. Did he say that out loud?

“I know - “ Jiyong starts to say, before a hiccup interrupts him. “I am.” Then he turns his head towards Seunghyun, a sloppy smile on his face. “You’re cute, too.”

 

It’s hard to put into words how that makes him feel. They don’t say much for the rest of the walk, both heavily breathing in fresh air in an attempt to sober up. The sound of their footsteps are loud against the empty streets, soles slapping against the pavement. The sound of rain starts to join in, a gentle _pat pat pat_ that leaves the pavement spotted with water. Neither of them make a move to pick up the pace, though, despite the weather threatening to get even worse.

 

They arrive at Jiyong’s building first, damp hair and droplets of water still resting on their shoulders. Seunghyun is just about sober enough to question himself; what does he do now? Does Jiyong want a kiss goodnight? Does he give him a firm handshake and be on his way?

 

They both stay still, looking at the building in front of them. Jiyong is swaying slightly, and without thinking Seunghyun darts an arm around his waist to steady him. It earns him a heady grin from the other man.

 

“One of these days I might just take you up to my bedroom, Choi Seunghyun.” Jiyong whispers. He’s close enough for Seunghyun to smell the alcohol on his breath, propping Jiyong up lightly by the wrists. He gulps, staring up at the block of flats next to them. It stretches high into the sky, and he cranes his neck to see the top. It’s a cloudy night; the only light from above comes from a few lonely aeroplanes stretching across the darkness.

 

“I don’t think Daniel would be too happy with that.” He whispers back, still looking upwards. If he could, he would book Daniel a one way ticket on one of those planes. Guiding Jiyong towards the entrance of the building, he realises just how many flights of stairs the other man has to climb. “Want me to help you up?” He offers, slightly more capable than Jiyong right now.

 

Jiyong hiccups. His diaphragm heaves with the movement and he looks at a point away from Seunghyun.

 

“Please. I’m not a _child_.” He says, his words slurred but a grin spread across his face.

 

“Well, if you’re sure.”

 

“I _am_ sure. I actually am sure.” Jiyong runs a hand through his hair, looking up at Seunghyun with lazy eyes. “I’m super sure.” Slowly he inches forward, close enough for their chests to come together when they breathe. Jiyong does so loudly, in through his nose and out through his mouth. Damp baby hairs line his forehead after the rain, and his eyelids threaten to fall down there and then.

 

“I don’t kiss on the first date.” He says, looking down as if defeated. Seunghyun stays silent, afraid to disturb anything that is happening right now. He can feel his heart pounding, and wills it to stay silent as well. “But I’ll make an exception for you.”

 


	16. A Kiss Means Goodbye

Does he message first? 

 

Or will he seem too eager? Too desperate? 

 

Jiyong doesn’t need to know that the above are very much true. He doesn’t need to know that the only thing he can think of is that lingering kiss, or that he gets butterflies in his stomach when he remembers Jiyong’s hands fumbling at his belt. He doesn’t need to know that he stood outside Jiyong’s building for a good few minutes after the younger man had left, that he walked home that night with a smile the size of Singapore on his face. 

 

He certainly doesn’t need to know that after that night he goes to bed thinking about Jiyong, wakes up the next morning thinking about Jiyong. That he brushes his teeth and thinks about what it would look like to have Jiyong standing behind him, naked from his waist up and hair damp from the shower. That he imagines how it might be to make breakfast with the other man, or to come home from a long day at work to find the other man with his feet on the sofa and a glass of wine in his hand. 

 

He doesn’t need to know the conversations he’s been running through his head; the jokes he wants to make and the laughter he wants to get back (doesn’t need to know how much he loves Jiyong’s laugh, either). Doesn’t need to know that the doodles on his desk at work eventually all end up looking like Jiyong, or that he tried once more to get back into painting but the blank canvas turned to Jiyong before his eyes. 

 

It’s hard to believe that their date went so well. He woke up the morning after - dry mouth and pounding headache, pretty sure that it had all been a dream. It was only the text from Soohyuk asking how it went that made him realise,  _ no, wait, it actually happened.  _ That morning he brought a hand to his lips, tracing where Jiyong had touched them with his own. And as the days go by it doesn’t get any easier to believe - harder, perhaps. The memory of that night gets blurrier and hazier; a hastily put together montage. That is, up to the kiss. 

 

That he still remembers well.

 

A few days pass before he finally caves and messages the other man - and none of them very productive days. It comes with an opportunity at work - free tickets to a Basquiat exhibition - that removes any inhibitions holding onto him.  

  
  
  


Seunghyun: are you free this weekend? 

  
  
  


He types out at work, turning his laptop screen away from his coworkers. Jiyong replies almost straight away. 

  
  
  


Jiyong: what do you have in mind? 

 

Seunghyun: an exhibition I think you’d like :) 

 

Jiyong: amazing! This is the seunghyun i know and love.

  
  
  


He stares down at the phone, blinking rapidly. It feels as if the walls may be falling away from him, his surroundings fading into background noise. All he can see is those last few words, all he can think about is Jiyong thinking those same words, typing each letter. Is he too staring at their conversation, over thinking it like Seunghyun? Is he wondering why the hell he would say something like that, regretting it with his head in his hands? 

 

Or does he not give it a second thought? 

  
  
  


Jiyong: saturday or sunday? 

  
  
  


His phone buzzes again. Seunghyun swallows, hard, and runs a hand through his hair. The office is loud with the sound of phones ringing, fingers typing, and doors swinging, but he’s blind to it all. 

  
  
  


Seunghyun: saturday, I’ll pick you up? 

  
  
  


He types out. It’s a Monday; less than a week until he sees Jiyong again, and his stomach flips in response. 

  
  
  


Jiyong: no, I’m still at Daniel’s. I’ll come to yours or meet you at the gallery? 

  
  
  


Right.

 

Daniel’s.

 

The feeling in his stomach - the excitement and anticipation at seeing Jiyong again - ends abruptly. 

 

_ You didn’t seem to mind when I dropped you off home the other night _ , he’s close to messaging back. 

  
  
  


Seunghyun: the gallery is good. I’ll text you the address later

  
  
  


_ Daniel. _ He thinks, teeth tightly clamped together. It’s always a painful reminder that it isn’t just him and Jiyong, that they don’t exist within a bubble or a vacuum. There’s a world outside of them, a world filled with other, annoyingly handsome, people. Is Daniel there with him now? Is he distracting Jiyong with his broad shoulders and sharp jawline, is he making bad jokes that Jiyong will laugh at anyway because  _ that’s just how he is? _

 

The receptionist - _ is it Emily? Emma? Neither?  _ \- comes up to his desk at some point during his internal monologue, a pile of folders under her arm. She has several new cartilage piercings, two silver rings on her left hand, and mismatched socks on underneath her vans. She only has a small ask for him and yet he always snaps her head off, watches her walk away feeling guilty. 

 

But his bad mood is hardly his fault, as far as he’s concerned. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The thought of that man and his almost vitruvian man physique haunt him that day - and night - after they agree to meet on Saturday. The memory of that kiss with Jiyong is replaced by the thought of Daniel; them laughing together, eating together, sleeping together. He sends another text to the younger man, he thinks of Daniel reading it over his shoulder. He sees an instagram post from Jiyong, he thinks of Daniel giving him advice on how to edit it. 

 

And it only gets worse. Over the next few days he can’t seem take a shower without thinking about the two of them sharing their own, the steam fogging up the glass and water droplets clinging to their naked bodies. Can’t cook without thinking about how much better the other man must be at it, how much better he looks in an apron or with flour food on his face. Can’t look in a mirror without comparing himself to him; their cheekbones, their jawlines, even their eyebrows. 

 

And then there’s the final straw. 

 

It’s a Wednesday when he’s on his way to work, sat on the tube with earphones to block out the rumbling of the train. His head rests against the dirty handrails - Eun Hee would’ve told him to stop  _ that instant  _ \- and his gaze travels around the carriage. It’s packed full to the brim, he was lucky enough to squeeze into a seat, so he stares at the walls to avoid looking at the crotches and faces around him. 

 

There’s an advert for a food delivery service. An advert for an app. And an advert, an advert for a….

 

He squints, not believing his own eyes. Either the universe is playing a cruel joke on him or he really must get his eyes tested again, because there in front of him, advertising bloody vitamins of all things, is the man who has been ruining everything for Seunghyun since he first heard his name. 

 

Of  _ course  _ Daniel models on the side. 

 

He grits his teeth, staring with narrowed eyes at his stupid smile on his stupid face. The man in question is wearing a stupid plaid shirt, holding in his stiff arms a stupid bottle of vitamins and making stupid, stupid claims about their effectiveness. He lowers his gaze away from the advertisement, unable to stomach it anymore. But underneath it sits a couple, so close they’re practically in each other’s laps. 

 

He really, truly, must have done something terrible in a past life. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He’s not sure why - not sure why it’s hitting him so much now, when just the other week he was ok with it. And even went and  _ told  _ Jiyong he was ok with it for God’s sake.

 

Except, he may have a vague idea why. 

 

There’s two sides to him; the Seunghyun who avoids all possible injury to his person, and the other. The other is a masochist, self destructive and stupid. This one goes looking for ways to hurt himself, chases pain and suffering. And it’s this one that took the reigns late one night, opened up facebook and typed in; Lee Eun Hee. The glare from his laptop screen, his heavy eyelids, the fact that he had work in the morning...the universe was telling him it was a bad idea. 

 

Sadly, the universe was right. 

 

They’re no longer friends on facebook apparently - although when or why she felt the need to unfriend him is lost to him. Maybe, probably, in all likelihood, it’s because of the new guy she’s seeing. 

 

He’s handsome. Perfect teeth, perfect smile. A great haircut. 

 

_ I’m happy for her,  _ he keeps trying to tell himself. She gets the flat, the wine, and the handsome man on her arm. He was the one who fucked it up, fell for someone else. She deserves this. 

 

But, why can’t he get something similar. 

 

Why is that bloody man in the way. 

 

Why, everywhere he looks, does he see couples. Happy couples. According to his sister, their Mum has a new boyfriend. According to Soohyuk, the guy he’s seeing wants to take things one step further. And according to Dong Hwi, the girl he’s seeing is actually real, not a figment of his imagination and one day  _ he will prove it to them.  _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“What should I do?” He asks during his next therapy session. His head is in his hands, squishing his mouth together. Pouty lips look back at him from the mirror opposite, tired and defeated eyes above them. “I’m not happy sharing him.”

 

It’s a Friday. He’s spent the last few days finding it harder and harder to get out of bed, closer and closer to tears. 

 

She looks back, with eyes that seem to turn just as defeated as his own. 

 

“I feel like we’re going round in circles sometimes, Seunghyun.” She says, and it must be true because he knows exactly what she’s about to say next. This week she has new tights; no ladder in them riding up her thighs. Instead, he finds his gaze drawn to the spot above her lip. It’s red and inflamed; she really should have picked it if she didn’t want him to stare. “I can’t tell you what you should do. Just do what feels right.”

 

There’s a pause in their conversation, and he brings his attention away from the spot on her face. 

 

“What feels right?” She asks.

 

It’s a very open ended question. Right now, not much feels right. He spent the last night weighing up his options, coming up with game plans only to talk himself out of them minutes later. But there’s one thing he knows; Jiyong being with someone else is driving him insane. 

 

“I don’t think I can just suck it up.” He replies, taking a breath before his next sentence. “I’ll ask him to make a decision.”

 

He hadn’t decided that until just now, sat with one leg folded under the other and rain hammering the windows of her office. It’s not what he wants to do. Rather, it’s what he has to do.

 

“Why can’t you suck it up?”

 

Eun Hee comes to mind first. Her perfect boyfriend, the actual  _ boyfriend  _ title. He wants something like that. So much that it hurts. And not just something like that - he wants something like that with Jiyong. He wants to be the first thing Jiyong sees when he wakes up, the one to make him breakfast in the mornings and the one to bring him pastries from the Supermarket just  _ because he wanted to _ .

 

“I like him too much.” He says, swallowing. “It kills me to think about him with someone else.” Taking a deep breath in, he leans over his arms crossed on his lap. “They’re spending every day together, getting closer and closer. What if one day he just decides he doesn’t like me as much?” 

 

He lets out a shuddering breath. This may be the most honest he’s ever been with her. 

 

“Better to know now, I guess.” 

 

“Do you think it’s unfair to put him in that position, only a few weeks after telling him how you feel?” She asks, after a pause. 

 

He shrugs in response. 

 

“Isn’t it unfair to me too? Him having the both of us?” 

 

A small smile, one it looks like she’s trying to fight, spreads across her face.

 

“What?” Brows furrowed, he prompts her to explain.

 

“Nothing.” She says, looking down at her notebook before admitting; “It’s nice, seeing you make progress.” Her candour doesn’t last long, though. “And if he doesn’t choose you? Can you cope with that?”

 

Now it’s his turn to look down, turning his gaze towards his lap. This isn’t the first time he’s thought about it, nor will it be the last. And she’s right to be worried about it,  _ he’s  _ worried about it. 

 

“I’ll cross that bridge if I get to it.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Saturday rolls around and he’s no less anxious than the last time he was in this situation; pacing around his flat as the second hand drags, and drags, and drags.  _ Fashionably late _ , he’s going for. Not too eager, not too desperate. Cool, calm, nonchalant. The butterflies in his stomach say otherwise, but he squashes them down; represses them to join the legions of other unwanted and unrecognised emotions.

 

The gallery is 10 minutes away. He’s meeting Jiyong there at half 8. The tickets are in the breast pocket of his blazer. When he arrives at the gallery he’ll give Jiyong a kiss on the cheek, maybe a hug. They’ll catch up on their week, he’ll make a joke, Jiyong will laugh. He runs this game plan through his head as he sips his whisky, soothing his nerves slightly and giving him the aftertaste to think about, rather than what lays ahead. 

 

They’re friends, he tries to remember. There’s no need to be this anxious about it, to overthink everything - that may just be his therapist talking, though. 

 

And what he’s going to ask Jiyong - to make a choice between him and Daniel, it’s no big deal. Not really. It’s certainly not enough for him to be feeling like he’s standing on a cliff edge, buffeted by the wind and looking down at sharp rocks. Behind him lay calm moors, soft grass that he wants to bury his head into. 

 

Damn him. 

 

Daniel, with his nice flat and perfect hair and life together. Or him...with his collection of instant ramen and cheap wines. 

 

He takes one last look in the mirror before leaving. Maybe it’s the whisky talking, but he looks good. His hair is smoothed down by gel, neatly parted to one side with a few strands hanging artfully down his forehead. His eyes underneath them, high cheekbones, strong eyebrows...he totally has a chance. 

 

His confidence falters slightly once he sees Jiyong. They’re quite some distance away, and forgetting his contact lenses makes the other man blurrier still, but it still brings forward the harsh reality of what he’s about to do. Fortunately the street is busy enough that Jiyong doesn’t see him yet, allowing him to weave through the crowds and mentally prepare himself for what’s to come later that night. 

 

Jiyong - like always - looks damn good; better and better with each step that he takes and the crisper and sharper his eyesight becomes. His hair is parted on the same side as Seunghyun’s, there’s a shirt tight enough to define his chest on his body, and his jeans trace every curve of his ankles, shins, and thighs. As he gets closer Jiyong turns around, and a big, gummy smile spreads over his face. 

 

_ What if I never see this smile again?  _ He thinks, a wave of nausea rushing through him, before pushing that thought deep, deep down. 

 

The younger man smells like pine when he leans in for a peck on the cheek - Seunghyun doubts that it is his own cologne - and bounces on the balls of his feet when he leans back away. Several inches of empty air fill the space between them and several beats of silence fill their conversation. Remembering the last time they kissed, his cheek burns from where Jiyong’s lips touched it and there’s a twinge in his stomach. 

 

“You didn’t tell me it was Basquiat.” Jiyong says, his deep voice cutting through the chatter on the street around him. He motions to a poster with the artist’s face on, the sleeve of his shirt riding up as he does so. “Got into him because of you.” 

 

“Oh?” Not remembering ever mentioning the artist to Jiyong, he asks.

 

“Mhm. You were drunk one night, started waxing lyrical about his ‘tortured soul’” Jiyong confirms, and Seunghyun can feel his cheeks threaten to turn the colour of beetroot. “Anyway, I looked him up. Loved his stuff.” He says as they start to move towards the entrance of the gallery. Seunghyun reaches a hand into the breast pocket of his shirt, fingers fumbling around for the tickets. 

 

“Seems I have a thing for tortured souls.” Keeping his gaze fixed on the gallery in front of them, Jiyong says. It’s in an offhand manner, but there’s a slight twinge at the corners of his mouth. He knows exactly what he’s doing to Seunghyun. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They’re two glasses of champagne in when Jiyong starts following the catering team around, looking for fresh glasses and more canapes. He follows closely behind; the alcohol in his blood stream making him lose all inhibitions and sense of good public behaviour. The art around them - as good as it is - is almost forgotten; all he can think about is the smaller man in front of him, his laugh as they pace hand in hand around the exhibition space. 

 

He catches himself in a mirror - slightly disheveled hair, cheeks rosy from the alcohol, and a big, unadulterated smile across his face. 

 

He’s so screwed.

 

A poster of Basquiat looks down at him from the wall, morose and despondent, but Jiyong’s hand is soon pulling him away, weaving him around the other people at the exhibition as if they were the only two there. 

 

Jiyong makes them stop once they find the next round of champagne, taking two glasses with as much composure as he can manage, then handing one to Seunghyun so enthusiastically that liquid jostles at the top, spills down to the flute. 

 

“Free champagne, my favourite thing. Ever.” He says, clinking his glass against Seunghyun’s own. They’re stood in the middle of two rooms, everyone else parting to walk around them. Really, he should take Jiyong to the side, a dark corner, anywhere but here, but the look the other man is giving him is enough to stop him in his tracks. They first make eye contact when they cheers’d, and Jiyong doesn’t look away for several heartbeats, an unreadable expression on his face. “I always have so much I want to say to you.” He says, still looking at Seunghyun. “It’s hard to pick chose what to say first.” 

 

“I’m in no rush. You can tell me everything you want.” He says back. And he means it. Time is immaterial when it comes to the man in front of him. 

 

Jiyong lets out a large laugh, baring his teeth to the gallery. Heads turn in their direction and he darts up a hand to cover his mouth, looking around with wide eyes. Without thinking, Seunghyun pulls it away. 

 

“I’m afraid I’d leave no time for you, then.” He says, looking down at the glass of champagne in his hand. Questioningly, Seunghyun looks at him. “You must have things to say to me, too.” 

 

That last sentence almost sobers him up. 

 

“Later. I’ll tell you later.” He says, downing his glass in one swift action. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Later arrives, and the night air hits them as they step out of the gallery, both with a buzz from the champagne. The stairs seem so much harder to navigate than earlier, and he clings lightly onto Jiyong’s jacket as he lowers one foot after the other. In response the other man leans into him, gently and subtly, until his back meets Seunghyun’s chest. He can feel the other man’s warmth through his shirt, the sharp bones under his skin, and the way his chest rises and falls with every breath. 

 

“I’ll organise next time, I promise.” Jiyong says, slightly slurred. This means goodbye,  _ which means a kiss _ . Butterflies start to fly around his stomach; the thought of last week, the thought of Jiyong’s lips on his own again...but then goodbye also means Jiyong going home, to another bed, with another man in it. 

 

He can’t do it. He can’t wait any longer.

 

So, when Jiyong leans forward onto his toes, gently snakes a hand up Seunghyun’s shoulder, he stops him. 

 

“Can you...do you think...you could make a decision?” He asks, faltering throughout the sentence. Jiyong pulls away, wide eyed. 

 

“A decision?” 

 

“About me...and Daniel.” He says, slowly. Realisation begins to dawn on Jiyong’s face. “I’m going crazy here.” 

 

“I know, I need to. It’s not right for me to do this, to either of you.” Jiyong replies after a pause, running a hand through his hair. He looks torn, unhappy, and Seunghyun  _ hates  _ that he’s making him feel this way. “But I do like him. A lot. Those feelings don’t go away overnight.”

 

_ Right.  _

 

“Right.” He says, definitively. This is it. He stands no chance.  _ Why did he ever think this would work?  _ He begins to turn away, hoping that Jiyong won’t see the tears that threaten to spill from his eyes, only to find a hand on his wrist, stopping him. 

 

“Where are you going?” In a shaky voice, Jiyong asks. 

 

“Home.”

 

The man in front of him looks crestfallen. 

 

“Don’t.” He says, pleading. And then, in a smaller voice; “At least, not without me.” 


	17. A One Night Stand

He wakes up feeling strange. Not disorientated – this is definitely his flat. Definitely his sheets (which, the smell kindly reminds him, he should wash soon), definitely his clothes scattered around the floor that he peers at through sleepy eyes, definitely his phone plugged into his charger. But still, strange.

 

As the fog of sleep starts to lift from his mind, one by one the events of last night start to come together. Meeting Jiyong at the gallery, that smile, champagne glasses clinking together, Jiyong reaching up on the tips of his toes towards him, and then -   _they went home together._ Not just any home, _this home_. He gulps, quickly shifting his body and craning his neck to see the other half of the bed.

 

Empty.

 

 _Did he imagine it? Or did Jiyong leave? Did he realise what an awful, stupid decision he’d made and sneak out at the crack of dawn?_ He shuts his eyes tight, willing away both the memories of last night and the anxiety creeping up his chest. It doesn’t work; he can almost feel Jiyong’s hands roaming over his body all over again, hear the other man’s pants and whines. And he remembers the way he laughed, too, as they fumbled with each others belts, bumped knees into shins, and found each others ticklish spots.

 

His bedroom door quietly clicks, and he opens his eyes to see it softly swing open. On the other side is Jiyong, dressed in – dressed in nothing. Cocking his head up on an elbow, he tries to remain nonchalant. Tries to act like he wasn’t just thinking about the other man, that the thing dangling between his legs isn’t enough to make his pulse lift. _This isn’t the first time you’ve seen it_ , he tells himself, as Jiyong gingerly makes his way over the debris on the floor. _No, but this is the first time you’ve seen it after doing….things, to it._ Luckily, Jiyong has his gaze fixed on the floor, all of his concentration going towards navigating his way through the dimly lit bedroom, allowing Seunghyun to gawp at him in peace.

 

“Had to pee.” He says, reaching the bed. There’s a small, apologetic smile on his face, and he makes an ever so slight move to cover himself. _He’s shy_ , Seunghyun realises. This Jiyong doesn’t fit with the image in his head; the man who commands a stage, who dyes his hair a new colour every month, who draws all eyes to him like moths to a flame. It gives him a little of his own confidence back. Breaking him from his thoughts, Jiyong motions to the bed. “Can I – I need to get back in.”

 

The other side, the side Jiyong must have slept on, backs against the wall. So Seunghyun shifts his weight, allows Jiyong to stumble over his body onto the other side of the bed with the mattress creaking as he moves.

 

“Sorry for the creaky bed.” He croaks, voice thick from sleep.

 

“No worries.” Jiyong says, pulling the sheets up to his waist. He rests his head against the headboard, his hair, for once free from any hair products, hanging loosely around his face. “Hope your neighbours didn’t mind too much.” He says, shutting his eyes but letting a small smirk spread across his lips.

 

_There’s the bravado he knows._

“You want anything to eat or drink?” He asks, ignoring Jiyong’s quip and the way the tips of his ears have started to grow warmer.

 

“Just water, please.” Jiyong answers as Seunghyun sits up, swinging his legs around to touch his feet on to the ground. With the sheet riding down his legs, he realises with a jolt of horror that he’s just as naked as the man beside him. Quickly, he darts for the nearest clothes he can find on the floor. The first thing he picks up is a pair of jeans and, _no good,_ he chucks them back down. It takes a few tries to find a pair of underwear, and he shimmies into them as fast as he can, pulling the elastic on with a satisfying _snap_.

 

He manages to ignore the muffled laughter from Jiyong behind him, but it’s slightly harder to ignore him when he says;

 

“Afraid I might see your dick?”

 

“Ha. Ha.” He replies dryly, making his way to the door.

 

“It’s not like it was in my –“ Jiyong starts to say, but he shuts the door on him with a satisfying click.

 

_God, he hopes his neighbours didn’t hear them._

 

He goes to the kitchen, grabs the first empty glass he sees, fills it with water and chugs it with the speed of a triathlete. It takes two more glasses of water before he is ready to think about anything, before he’s ready to think about the man sitting naked in his bed, the man that he’s pined over for the better part of a year. He should feel happy. And yet, his stomach is twisting. Tying itself in knots, more knots than he ever learnt from two years of boy scouts. He swallows, staring at the glasses in his cupboard. He needs to pick one out for Jiyong, one clean enough that it looks as if he has his life together. Nice, but not too nice.

 

Jesus, was it always this overwhelming to choose a glass?

 

He’s staring intensely at one in his hand when the bedroom door clicks open behind him, and Jiyong hovers in the frame before taking a few tentative steps forward. He’s fully clothed now, the same clothes from last night, and he’s holding his phone loosely in his hand.

 

“I’ll have to catch that water another time.” He says, an apologetic shrug of his shoulders. “Daniel’s already asking where I am.”

 

Somehow, the glass in his hand doesn’t slide through his fingers, drop onto the floor and shatter into pieces.

 

 _“Are you gonna tell him?”_ He wants to ask.

 

Nothing comes out, though.

 

“I’ll message you, soon.”

 

“Yeah, sure.” He just about manages to reply, his fingers clenching around the glass. He watches as Jiyong makes his way to the front door, fumbles with the lock, and swings it closed behind him after a meek wave goodbye. As soon as the door seals shut, he feels dirty. His skin starts to crawl, the voices in the back of his head gain confidence. Putting the glass down, he washes his hands in the sink, scrubs them clean until the tips of his fingernails are clear and the washing up bowl is overflowing.

 

Tired. He’s tired, exhausted even. He’ll feel better after more sleep, so he makes his way to the bedroom again, limbs feeling like sandbags. When he his room it’s to find his bed sheets in disarray, the smell of another man in the air. He grabs a blanket, makes home on the sofa instead, and shuts his eyes as tight as possible.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When he wakes up it’s past 4 in the afternoon. Normally he would feel guilty about wasting the day away, but one look at his empty phone screen has him wishing he could go straight back to sleep. Not that he was expecting Jiyong to message so soon, but he still can’t avoid the disappointment that settles in his stomach. As he shuts his eyes again, nestles his head further into the fabric of the sofa, the phone beside him dings.

 

He practically jumps up, only to sink back down when he reads _mum._ She’s in town for the next few days, wants to do dinner at some point. Initially he’s happy; he loves his mum, and there is no one better when it comes to cheering him up. But how can he tell her why he’s feeling like this right now? _Sorry, mum, your son is a flaming homosexual._

And not even a good one at that.

 

Without moving from his position on the sofa – despite the cramp starting to settle in his bum cheeks – he decides to text the _only_ possible person he can seek advice from right now.

 

 

 

Seunghyun: Help. Please.

 

 

 

He sends to Soohyuk. As soon as the blue bar completes its journey across the top of the screen he is greeted by a rumbling in his stomach. There’s a list of things that he has to complete before work tomorrow – in a time frame that has become drastically shorter after such a long nap – in his head, but getting food is quickly bumped up to the top. Motivation to _make_ said food is a different matter, though, and he turns to his phone once more.

 

Large pizza, garlic bread on the side. Litre of diet coke. There’s nothing like comfort food.

 

He flicks on the TV while he’s waiting for Soohyuk and for Dominos, rolls onto his side and squishes his cheek into a cushion. Memories of last night refuse to stop surfacing, no matter how much he tries to supress them. No matter how high he turns the volume up, how hard he tries to get into the programme in front of him or changes the channel to find something more engaging.

 

How _fast_ did Jiyong get changed that morning? How quickly did he dart out of the flat,as if he couldn’t wait to get away?

 

 _God_. _Was he that bad?_

 

He lets out a big sigh, one that echoes around the empty room. As the sun goes down, its light is replaced by the artificial one of the TV, casting moving shadows across his bare body. He pulls the blanket closer to his skin, tangles his feet in its folds before they can get chilly. _It will be fine_ , he tells himself. _Jiyong will message in a few days. You haven’t ruined everything._

 

It’s not enough to convince himself, but the doorbell rings before he can lose his mind completely. Still in his boxers he makes his way over to the door, takes the food as quickly and with as minimal eye contact as possible. The door clicks shut behind him and he’s forced to remember the way Jiyong left that morning through that same door, with a sheepish smile and a shitty wave.

 

Bastard.

 

 _Who does that?_ He thinks, making his way back over to the sofa with the hot boxes of food sending a rush of heat through his body. There’s a dent in the cushions where his body lay, and he tosses the blanket onto the floor. _Who just ups and leaves like that?_ To silence the voices in his head he all but rips open the box in front of him, grabs the cheesiest slice he can spot and shoves it in his mouth. It almost burns his fingers, the roof of his tongue, and his throat as he gulps it down. He rapidly sucks in air, trying to cool his mouth down. There’s tears in his eyes now as he runs his tongue against the sore roof of his mouth.

 

_Who does he think he is, making him feel like this?_

Thankfully he’s slightly, ever so slightly, more emotionally stable when he gets into work the next day. A pinch more rational, a tad more sensible. It’s come at the right time, his new and improved mood, as he sits down at his desk with a long, _long_ , to do list. Clients to call back, people to chase up, files upon files to sort out. There’s an espresso to his left, courtesy of the receptionist – who walks away with a sway of her hips that says _you’re still interested in me_ , and a _focus_ playlist already loaded on his computer.

 

His usual playlist is full of songs recommended to him by Jiyong, so that’s a no-go today.

Of course, as he swivels his chair away from her and back towards his computer screen, its then that Soohyuk has to message back.

 

 

 

Soohyuk: still need help?

 

 

 

He feels the tips of his ears start to go red first. Slowly it spreads across his face, all the way down to his neck, as he thinks about what happened the other night. He turns his phone around, puts it screen down on the table. Soohyuk, and _that_ (whatever that is), can wait until lunch time. He’s not about to discuss the sordid details of the other night with his colleagues in the same room. Putting his headphones in, he drinks the espresso in a few quick gulps, not caring how it burns the roof of his mouth. He opens up his emails, cracks his knuckles, and prays to all the deities up there for _one_ blessed morning where he doesn’t think about Jiyong.

 

By the grace of God – which one, he doesn’t know – it works. And later that day, once he’s tucked safely into a corner of a café with a baguette halfway to his mouth, he gets round to texting back.

 

 

 

Seunghyun: we kind of slept together

 

 

 

Immediately it comes up that Soohyuk is typing, and he shuts his eyes tight to avoid the barrage of questions that will inevitably come his way. When he opens his eyes again it’s to five new texts – and the barista behind the counter staring at him. He lowers his eyebrows, knowing full well how intimidating that can be, and she gets back to drying glasses.

 

 

 

Soohyuk: what

 

Soohyuk: excuse me

 

Soohyuk: you did what

 

Soohyuk: who was on top

 

Soohyuk: god it must have been awkward

 

 

 

After just a brief glance at them he moans, running a hand down his face. What did he expect, really?

 

 

 

Seunghyun: it wasn’t /sex/ sex

 

 

 

Is the first contention he makes. He feels the need to make this clear, that they didn’t…that he doesn’t really know…how to do it, well, between a guy and another guy.

 

But he’s certainly not about to ask Soohyuk for advice on that.

 

 

 

Seunghyun: but im not here to fill up your wank bank

 

Seunghyun: I need help for like…the after stuff

 

 

 

Again, he groans. This is almost as painful as the past few days.

 

 

 

Soohyuk: expand 

 

Seunghyun: he just left the next morning…because he had to go see Daniel…and just said he would text soon

 

Seunghyun: will he? Or did I scare him off

 

 

 

There’s that anxiety again, nestled in somewhere between his lungs and his ribcage. It’s the thought that maybe, just maybe, he was _terrible_ in bed. Maybe Jiyong felt there was nothing between them, maybe Daniel is just a much better fuck. He misses Eun Hee, now, with her bluntness and straight talking. Always knew where you stood with her. With Jiyong, he’s in constant limbo.

 

 

 

Soohyuk: listen

 

Soohyuk: guys like sex. a blowjob is a blowjob. you’re not gonna scare him off

 

Soohyuk: if he said he’ll text then he’ll text. you know he sticks to his word

 

 

 

Once more a blush creeps up his skin at the mention of what went on the other night. Maybe it’s easier if Jiyong doesn’t ever message back – he’s not too sure he can look him in the eye ever again. But Soohyuk is right, as painful as it is to admit. He _does_ know Jiyong, better than most, probably. If he says he’ll text, then he’ll text.

 

It’s just, what happens then?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He agrees to meet up with his mum the next evening – free food and free wine, could he say no? She leans over to kiss him on the cheek and her perfume wafts towards him, enough to send a tingle through his nose and a sneeze through his body. It also makes him ache; he misses her, misses the comfort and the safety she offers, how everything seems so much less complicated with her around. But he’s a big boy now, and big boys don’t cry in front of their mothers.

 

Shrugging off her coat, she sits down opposite him. They’re lit by candlelight; a thin candle stuck in an old wine bottle that blocks their view of each other. She moves it to the side, muttering under her breath as she goes.

 

“Are you alright?” She asks, straight off the bat. They haven’t even gotten to the wine yet.

 

 _Don’t cry, don’t cry,_ he tells himself.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

A waiter comes round to deliver their free bread and to ask for their drinks – he stays silent; she knows what he likes by now. As soon as he leaves she turns back to him with a sigh.

 

“You seem distant.” She carries on, ignoring his previous words. “I know it’s been a tough year for you, and I know you don’t like to burden us with your problems.” With a raise of her hand she cuts off the protestations he was about to make. “But you can talk to us, you know.”

 

He looks at the tablecloth between them, the way it creases underneath his wine glass, the crumbs from the bread the waiter placed down onto the table. Then he looks back up at his mum, to the greying hairs around her face, the wrinkles under her eyes that he could swear weren’t there the last time he saw her. Is she ready to hear about this? Or is he right to be apprehensive about it?

 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He says, picking at a loose thread on the cloth. The chatter from other tables drifts over to them and he chooses to get lost in it instead of being honest with his mother, chooses the conversations of strangers rather than the one that sits on the tip of his tongue.

 

“You’re a terrible liar.” She says, dryly. Gently, she slaps his hand away from pulling at the thread on the table. “And still a child.”

 

The wine comes, poured into their glasses with a satisfying _glug glug glug_ , and he reaches for his glass eagerly.

 

“But you’re my child.” She says, once the waiter has left again. “So,” She begins, raising her eyebrows. “How is everything.”

 

“Fine.” His voice cracks, somewhere in between the _F_ and the _N_. _Dammit._ Her eyebrows – if possible – creep even further up her forehead. “I’ve started seeing someone.” With his bottom lip between his teeth, he admits. It’s perhaps the least amount of information he can give her, the vaguest he can possibly keep it, but the wine glass stops travelling towards her mouth, hovers in the grasp of her thin, elegant fingers. He watches the liquid inside it slosh from side to side as a small grin starts appearing on her face.

 

_Someone._

“Who? Do I know them?”

 

Maybe he shouldn’t tell her. Is there any point in kicking up a fuss if Jiyong and him end up not working out? Maybe it’s best to wait until they get serious, or _maybe_ he could get away with never telling her. Juggle his two different lives like a man having an affair. But that would never work, just the thought alone is enough to stress him out. Plus, he _wants_ to tell her. Wants her to give him a hug and tell him that _Jiyong is an absolute fool if he doesn’t choose him_ , words that are always on the tip of her tongue.

 

“It’s Jiyong.” He says, swallowing down the dregs of his own wine glass. “I think I told you about him once.”

 

Time stops. The walls of the restaurant start to get further away from him, the sound from others around them escapes him.

 

“Oh.” She says, raising her eyebrows. “You know, your cousin Dongwook once dated a man when he was at University.”

 

_She’s going to say that it’s a phase._

 

“Hope your boyfriend is better looking than his though, Christ.”

 

Oh.

 

With that weight off his chest, he’s surprised he doesn’t start floating off the chair, up towards the ceiling to crash into the lights above them. Completely nonchalant, his mum tucks into the bread in front of them, breaking off a crust and scattering crumbs across the table. Whilst she brushes them off the cloth with the back of her hand he feels his pulse gradually calm down, his heart get closer to a gentle _thud_ rather than the rampant, incessant smashing against his ribcage.

 

“How long have you been together?”

 

“Strictly…we’re not really, not together.” He shrugs, unable to give her a better answer. “It’s complicated.” She looks like she wants the complicated answer, though, and he sighs. “He’s been seeing someone else.”

 

“Well, that Jiyong is an absolute fool if he doesn’t choose you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Over the next few days, the possibility that Jiyong really _is_ an absolute fool after all grows larger and larger. He stays in the office as late as possible, often only leaving once the cleaning lady comes in, but even then he manages to spend entire evenings waiting for his phone to ding. He feels like a bloody teenage girl – _not that there’s anything wrong with that_ , Eun Hee would jump in and say right about now.

 

He misses her.

 

In short, he’s feeling awfully mopey. And, as if he can sense it from halfway across London (perhaps his mood really is bad enough to permeate the air pollution, the smell of fried chicken, and the permanent drizzle that’s set in, to make it all the way across the Thames to Soohyuk’s flat), Soohyuk inevitably tries to draw him out of his self imposed isolation.

 

 

 

Soohyuk: come out tonight

 

 

 

Comes up on his phone screen. It follows a short ‘ding’ that almost sends him jumping up, so eager to see if Jiyong has finally messaged.

 

 

 

Seunghyun: I don’t feel like it

 

 

 

He replies, with a sigh and a pout that no one is there to see.

 

 

 

Soohyuk: what are you gonna do instead? Cry over a boy?

 

Soohyuk: come out

 

 

 

“UGHHH.” He moans out loud, rubbing a hand over his eyes. There’s nothing he wants to do less, right now. Go and pretend to be happy, pretend that he wants to hit on the girls at the bar or that he isn’t being eaten away by the fact that the guy he may or may not be seeing ahs yet to message back. But the flat is empty and lonely. For company tonight he has the ticking clock in front of him, the familiar dent in the sofa, and the unwashed dishes that are piling up along the kitchen counter.

 

He checks his bank account from his phone, hoping that it will force his hand into staying at home.

 

No such luck.

 

 

 

Seunghyun: fine.

 

Soohyuk: meet us at 9 xoxo

 

 

 

That gives him an hour to get ready. He needs to shower and sort out his hair, but if he’s going to get through tonight with any pretence of being a normal, functioning human being, then there’s a much more important thing he has to do first.

 

With a satisfying _pop_ , the cork comes out of the wine bottle. With an even more satisfying _glug_ , he’s pouring its contents into the glass in front of him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“He’s a fucking idiot if he doesn’t choose you.” Dongwhi shouts over the loud music of the bar, echoing his mother’s sentiments – albeit, with a lot less sobriety. The rest of them around the table shout their agreement, faces red from the alcohol and strong – and dramatic – words of encouragement for him tumbling out of their mouths. “You’re bloody fantastic. Isn’t he, Jae?”

 

He didn’t intend on telling any of them. Even told – threatened – Soohyuk not to spill before they entered the bar, made it known that if his loose lips made an appearance that night then he wouldn’t have lips for much longer. It took 3 drinks, two poor girls Kyungil tried to get him to talk to, and countless amounts of _what’s wrong with you tonight, cheer up you dick,_ for him to snap. Alcohol is a cruel mistress, one that doesn’t necessarily care about the consequences. Like with his mum, as soon as the words were out of his mouth, time stood still. Were it not for his heart trying to burst out of his chest, threatening to pop the buttons on his shirt one by one, he really would have thought it had, such was the stillness of the men around him.

 

But then there was a hand on his back – Jaechun’s, an elbow nudging his own – Kyungil’s, and Dongwhi’s loud, booming voice across the table.

 

_“So you’re gay. Big woop. Maybe Soohyuk can finally get his leg over you.”_

 

(He refrained from saying that _no, I’m not_ gay _per say_ ; he doubted that Dongwhi would care about the subtle nuances.)

 

Talking about Jiyong meant that he had to talk about what happened between them – that’s where Soohyuk decided to but in – and meant talking about why he’s such a, as Kyungil so nicely put it, moody prick recently.

 

“Best guy I’ve ever met.” Jaechun agrees, all but throwing the pint in his hand Seunghyun’s way. The floor they stand on is sticky, likely from other people doing the same thing, and he watches as Kyungil steadies Jaechun’s hand. He doesn’t fail to spot the looks the scene earns from a couple of girls on another table; the drunk helping the drunk like the blind leading the blind. “The Thelma to my Louise.” Jaechun slurs.

 

The table erupts over who would be Thelma and who would be Louise, but Seunghyun finds their words lost on him. He’s taken back to many months ago, to a night time drive with Jiyong. Taken back to stepping into that car, lit only by the streetlights outside, greeted by that smile. It’s nice, what they’re saying. But they’re just words. If he doesn’t, if he comes back to Seunghyun to tell him that it’s over…

 

It’s not worth thinking about now.

 

On the other side of the room he spots the fire exit, cracked open to reveal the smoking area. The weight in his stomach, gone briefly while he knocked back pint after pint, is back now, and he can’t bring himself to get back into the conversation. He’s about to try and worm his way through the crowd, escape to it for some fresh air, when a voice softly whispers in his ear;

 

“He’ll choose you.”

 

Looking around he finds Soohyuk standing by his shoulder, placing a firm hand on his arm.

 

“Try to stop worrying.”  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Easier said than done, as another day, and then another, pass without a message from Jiyong.

 

He counts eight in total before finally, _finally,_ his phone screen reads: _Jiyong._

 

 

 

Jiyong: hey, you alright?

 

Seunghyun: you’re alive!

 

 

 

As soon as he’s sent it he groans, planting his forehead on the desk. It hits against a stapler and he rubs the bruise, staring defiantly back at the colleagues who look his way as he does so.

 

 

 

Jiyong: haha, sorry for the late reply.

 

Seunghyun: it’s fine, just worried that I’d scared you off.

 

 

 

He bites his lip this time – much less hazardous – as he thinks over that last sentence. Is Jiyong going to think that he’s needy? Clingy? Insecure? Mentally unstable?

 

 

 

Jiyong: ? I said I’d message

 

Seunghyun: just didn’t think…you know, cus it was my first time with a guy

 

 

 

He shuts his eyes. And when he opens them again -

 

 

 

Jiyong: you thought you were bad in bed?

 

Jiyong: just shut up before you make me change my mind lmao

 

Jiyong: im just texting to say that like, ive told Daniel we’re over

 

Jiyong: didn’t tell him WHY – he cant know what an awful person I am, so, like, if by complete chance you run into him on the street, DON’T tell him

 

 

 

 _That last bit might be a problem,_ he thinks. He wants to scream this from the rooftops.


	18. Moving in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway wow thanks for 400 kudos :~) im v surprised that so many people are invested in this! i wish i could do it justice with more frequent uploads rip but if i do something then you bet that i'll do it half arsed!! im not MAD on this chapter but w/e ~~~~~ i also realised that it's been over a year since i put up the first chapter ahfdfljkj im so sorry im still dragging this on

_So, does this mean we’re together?_

Nope. He deletes the letters as quickly as he typed them.

 

_Are you my boyfriend?_

Definitely not.

 

_What now?_

Ok, that he can send. The little blue bar wooshes across his phone screen, held delicately in one hand. The other hand is around a congratulatory gin and tonic, complete with ice and a slice of lime. It feels a little too grand for his dingy flat, but not too grand for the occasion. As the bubbles float to the top of the drink, popping as they reach the surface, he debates telling Soohyuk the good news.

 

But no, this is something he wants all to himself for now.

 

 

 

Jiyong: well, I need to find a new place to live. Like, soon, because it’s awkward as hell right now

 

 

 

Thankfully Jiyong is several miles away rather than right in front of him, because Seunghyun has a strong desire to say _live with me_. _Live with me in a flat barely big enough for one person, with a shower that I always hit my head on_. They could fight over kitchen space, drag their pyjama clad feet over crummy floors that they’d both passive aggressively tell each other to clean at some point.

 

It would be perfect.

 

The next few texts roll in as he’s fully submerged in this daydream. Them eating together in bed, buying a wine rack with the intention of filling it up but getting through a bottle as soon as they bought it. Opening post addressed to the ‘ _occupier_ ’ of the flat together because hey, they were both the occupier. Shoving bills into some dark and dusty corner of the flat and getting mad at each other when the final notices started arriving.

 

 

 

Jiyong: give me some time to get my head together

 

Jiyong: but after that, I think I owe you a date

 

Seunghyun: sure :)

 

 

 

He replies. Some time. He can give him that (he would give him anything, right now – but that may be the gin and tonic talking). The clock is edging closer to 11pm and his eyes are starting to droop. He’s going to have a great night’s sleep, that he’s sure of. One as content and peaceful as a nap on Christmas day, stuffed to the brim with a roast dinner and a blood type closer to wine than anything else. The bedroom door, open just a crack, winks seductively at him, but, with his phone in his hand, it’s all too tempting to spread the good news.

 

 

 

Seunghyun: I worried for nothing :)

 

 

 

He sends to Soohyuk - the other man will know what he means. Then with stiff joints he pushes himself up off the sofa, slips his chilly toes back into his slippers and picks up the now empty glass to put it in the sink. The thin dressing gown draped around his shoulders swishes about his legs as he crosses the few feet to the kitchen, flicking through his Instagram feed as he goes. Images fly past his screen as his thumb flicks downwards and downwards again, most of them artwork. But one catches his eye.

 

 _Maybe I just wanna be yours,_ the picture reads. Blurry text over the image of two hands, lightly grasping each other. The user is Jiyong, and he stops short of the kitchen, lets his thumb rest on the screen instead of continuing its journey downwards. A small smile begins to spread across his face, tentative and shy as each corner of his lips turns upwards. _This is about him._

 

And then – _ding._ The moment is ruined.

 

 

 

Soohyuk: what a surprise.

 

Soohyuk: you free after work tomorrow? wanna show you a place im thinking to rent

 

 

 

A brief thought flashes through his head. _What if Jiyong wants to meet tomorrow? Shouldn’t he keep it free?_ But he’s not a teenage girl waiting for his parent’s landline phone to ring. The picture Jiyong put up on Instagram is still open on his phone screen, and _god_ does he want that too. But he closes the app, opens up his messages instead. _All in good time._

 

 

 

Seunghyun: for you, anything.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You’re late.” Soohyuk says testily the next day. With hands firmly in his pockets, he stands impatiently on the pavement as Seunghyun all but jogs to him, panting from the rush from work to the location Soohyuk told him to come to. There’s a man standing next to his friend – an estate agent, he assumes – and he offers him a brief, polite nod after muttering _sorry, sorry_ with as much breath as he could muster. Wasting no time, Soohyuk and the other man edge towards the building in front of them, keys jangling to open the large door. Looking up, Seunghyun notices that it’s nothing like the blocks of flats he’s used to.

 

Old bricks and big sash windows with cracking paint decorate the exterior. It’s rustic, beautiful. Out of the way, too. The street lined by bare trees is deadly quiet, and there’s none of the usual sirens or rush of traffic that punctuate the silence in the rest of London. Catching Soohyuk’s eyes, he waggles his eyebrows.

 

“ _Not bad_.” He mutters to his friend, keeping his voice low enough so that the portly estate agent, with his keys fixed in the door and arm poised to let them in, doesn’t hear it. His friend is in a very different position in life to himself if he can afford a place like this.

 

“It has two bedrooms. I want you to move in with me.” Soohyuk says, voice just about audible over the door’s loud creaking as it swings open. There’s a swoosh of paper against wood as a pile of unopened mail gets swept away by the door. Immediately, Seunghyun goes to protest. “I knew you would get like this. That’s why I didn’t tell you.” Soohyuk cuts him off before he can say anything at all.

 

“I’m getting like this because _I can’t afford it_.” Seunghyun hisses. For all his indignation, though, he still joins them in stepping over the door frame and into the property. They head straight for a wooden staircase in front of them, with the estate agent mumbling some generic words as they go. “Not like you, Mr Moneybags.”

 

“So what? Pay what you can until you get a promotion.” His friend brushes off his concerns with a shrug of his shoulders. The bannister wobbles a bit as they make their way up the narrow staircase, stopping once they reach the landing. They’re too close to the estate agent for Seunghyun to properly argue his case, so bites his lip until the second door is opened and swung into the flat.

 

“I went into the _arts_. I’m not sure if I’ll see a promotion before the next ice age.” He says once the estate agent has stepped through the doorframe. Soohyuk snorts, which earns them a look from the man in front of them.

 

“I got through uni on your instant ramen. I owe you one.” Soohyuk persists, as they too make their way through the door. Still, sensing his hesitation, his friend sighs. “Just give it a chance. I think you’ll love it. Much better than your current shit hole.”

 

And it _is_. At just a first glance, he can already tell he’s going to love it, so much so that a small, soft _oh_ escapes his lips. Soohyuk looks around with a small smirk as they walk through the open plan living room and kitchen, a cold winter light flooding in from the windows either side. The estate agent is talking them through the room but the words barely register, his mind having already wandered too far. He can see Jiyong stood in that kitchen. Small feet clad in slippers, a thin dressing gown draped around his thin frame.

 

He would love it here.

 

Jiyong follows their small party through the rest of the flat. He walks beside them to the bedrooms, flops down on the beds and casts a cheeky smile Seunghyun’s way. He pretends to unzip his pants when they get to the bathroom, looks in the large mirror to check his hair with a concentration that Seunghyun has only witnessed when he’s checking himself out. It comes to the last unopened door, and Seunghyun almost doesn’t want the tour to stop. Every room has been airy, immaculate. White, clean walls, nice carpet lining the floor.

 

The door opens to an empty room; a small square space with one sash window. The view from it is of tree, their thin branches naked from the autumn, and a small courtyard garden down below. It’s a little anti-climactic, he thinks, saving this room till last. Jiyong has vanished from his mind – there’s nowhere to put him in this room. But Soohyuk turns around, a wide grin on his face.

 

“ _This_ is really why I wanted you to come.” He says, placing his hands on his hips. Seemingly completely satisfied with his work, he then asks; “What do you think?”

 

Seunghyun’s mind goes blank. _What is there to think?_

 

“It’s a room?” It’s no surprise that his half-hearted answer earns him a loud sigh from the other man.

 

“You could use it as your studio. To paint.” Soohyuk says, casting a hand out towards the room. The air falls flat after that sentence.

 

“I don’t need a whole room for that, though. And it’s not like I paint anymore.” Seunghyun replies, a slight frown on his forehead.

 

“I think it would be good for you to start again. It’s therapeutic.” Seunghyun doesn’t say anything to that, but he doesn’t hide the frown that deepens on his forehead either. They’re both keenly aware of the estate agent still hovering behind them, and Soohyuk simply mutters;

 

“We’ll talk about it when we’re out of here.”

 

When they get out of the flat several minutes later, the cold winter air hits them both in the face. His friend shivers next to him as he shakes the hand of the estate agent. Seunghyun himself gives a polite nod before spinning on his heel, shoving his hands deep down into his pockets and heading back the way they came.

 

“Why are you getting so funny about this?” Soohyuk asks, walking briskly beside him. The pavement beneath them is cracked, roots and grass growing through them, and Seunghyun falls into a pattern of avoiding the cracks. It’s something he’s done since he was a kid, and always served as a distraction to the world around him.

 

“I’m not.” He shrugs. “It’s a nice place, but I can’t afford it.”

 

“Then let me front you for a while.”

 

“No –“ Seunghyun sighs, running an exasperated hand through his hair. “And that last room, it’s a nice thought but, I’m _ok_ now.”

 

“Right. I forgot how Jiyong was the answer to all your problems.” Soohyuk says, sarcasm dripping from his voice. His breath comes out in a plume of mist, condensing in the cold air. With one swift movement he pulls out a box of cigarettes and slides one between his teeth, yanks a lighter from his other pocket and brings it towards his face. Over the little flame, he casts a look at Seunghyun. “I’m joking. He’s not. And I am still worried about you.”

 

“But honestly, I’m happy.” Seunghyun insists. They turn a corner, the row of terraced houses turning into a road in front of them. There’s a pause in the conversation as they both look each way for oncoming traffic, stepping out onto the tarmac as Soohyuk’s smoke billows out behind them.

 

“Yeah, _now_ you are.” He says, “But when you get crushed, you get _crushed._ And you’re not great at coping when things go south.”

 

Seunghyun bites his bottom lip. There’s nothing he can say to defend himself on that, and it’s not even like Soohyuk knows the whole story. He doesn’t know about the therapist, about the mornings he couldn’t get out of bed. Doesn’t know about the time he didn’t shower for four consecutive days, the time he ate nothing but instant ramen because it felt like the only thing that made him happy.

 

“So that’s what this is about? Want to keep an eye on me?” He’s only half joking as he says it. On the other side of the street is a park, lined by tall iron fences. It’s getting dark as the sun starts to dip behind the skyline, but there are still kids playing out there. Their screeches pierce the peaceful atmosphere as they run about with complete abandon. _God, what a simpler time._

 

Soohyuk shrugs in response, then dodges the question completely.

 

“Eun Hee still worries about you, too.”

 

_Christ._

 

“Tell her I’m fine.” He replies, and it’s his turn to shrug now. They pull into the tube station, both rooting around for their cards in their pockets.

 

“I do.” Soohyuk answers, pulling his own out of his pocket. Placing it down on the barrier, he throws over his shoulder: “Think about the flat, yeah? I miss living with my best friend.”

 

“Yep.” Seunghyun replies, watching his friend go through the gates. As he follows through his mind wanders back to Jiyong, imagines taking him back to that flat. Making dinner together in the kitchen, panicking when the fire alarm went off after one of them invariably burnt the food. Jiyong could keep his guitars in that spare room, or even let his clothes spill out into it. But, with his gaze fixed on Soohyuk’s back, he realises that there’s something else making him hesitant.  

 

_How would those two fit together?_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“So I’ve found a new place to live, wanna come over and christen it for me?” Jiyong says down the phone. To hide his grin, Seunghyun swivels his chair away from his colleagues, tucking his head into the crook of his neck as he does so.

 

This is the first time they’ve spoken after their last conversation, after Jiyong said he needed a few days to sort everything out. It meant a few more anxious days – even though Jiyong had told him that he was choosing him, it sometimes seemed impossible to silence his insecurities. But then he called, and, well, it’s hard to describe how good it felt to see that name pop up on his phone screen.

 

“My flatmate’s a bit weird but hey, we’re both weird too.” Jiyong carries on. There’s the faint sound of traffic adding atmosphere to the phone call; loud sirens, cars beeping their horns, chatter from other people coming and going out of earshot. He wonders where Jiyong is, what his destination is. Wonders what he’s wearing, if he’s using his headphones to make this call or if the phone is brought up to his ear. Is he cold? The weather was pretty crisp when Seunghyun himself made the journey into work earlier that morning.

 

He wants to know everything, wants to be with him constantly. Wants to be the one walking next to Jiyong – on the right hand side of the pavement to protect him from oncoming traffic.

 

“Speak for yourself.” He replies, simply. He might as well be twirling a phone cord around his finger, playing with his hair with the other hand; for so strongly does he feel like a teenage girl sneaking down to use the landline phone to call her crush. He doesn’t ask how it went with Daniel, how Jiyong feels about it all. There’s time for that later, right now he wants to focus on the weight that’s been lifted off his chest, the way he feels happy enough to almost float upwards towards the ceiling.

 

“Excuse me, when I first met you you had actually chosen to spend your birthday _alone_ , in a _bath_.” Jiyong is indignant, and Seunghyun is taken back to the time they met, too. His fluffy bathrobe, feet sloshing through soapy water as it flowed over the bath. Jiyong, who seemed so much smaller than he does now, sitting cross legged on his sofa, bare feet dirtying the expensive fabric.

 

“A lot of people don’t like making a fuss of their birthdays!” He answers back, swinging his legs on the chair. “And there’s nothing wrong with baths.” One of his colleagues glances up from his work to look at him, one eyebrow subtly raised. There’s no way he can pass this off as a work call anymore.

 

“Yes, in the 40 and above demographic.” Jiyong’s laugh comes through the phone. Not for the first time is he struck by how much he loves it; the gentle up and down, the way it softly peters out into a warm silence. “And baths are great…as long as there’s someone to keep you company.” The other boy might as well be here, sitting on his desk instead of that computer, for so well can Seunghyun imagine the look on his face right now. His own face is under siege from a red hot blush, threatening to take over every inch from his neck to the tips of his ears, as he thinks about sharing a bath with Jiyong.

 

They’re at opposite ends – Jiyong’s probably made him take the tap end – feet meeting in the middle. Four knees stick out from the soapy water, his taller and hairier than Jiyong’s, as their toes tickle the soles of each other’s feet. Bubbles land on every possible surface, Jiyong having used at least half a bottle of expensive bubble bath, and the foam falls from Jiyong’s collarbones, along his delicate ribcage and around his little belly button, down towards…

 

He gulps.

 

“Anyway. I have a job interview tomorrow, so how about you come over tomorrow night?” Jiyong gets them back on track.

 

“A job interview?”

 

“Yep. Receptionist at a studio. Probably going to be horribly corporate.”

 

“We all have to sell our souls at some point.” Seunghyun replies, feeling the tie around his neck constrict as he does so. With his free arm he works his fingers underneath the material, trying to loosen the knot that rests just beneath his throat. There are a million things he would rather be doing than be stuck in this office all day. There’s a certain person he would _much_ rather be sat next to than his colleagues around him.

 

That certain person sighs.  

 

“Sometimes I think it would be easier to go back to just being a…you know?”

 

In a flash, Seunghyun has moved from leaning back into his swivel chair to being bolt upright.

 

“Don’t.” He says, without thinking. There’s a small voice in the back of his head telling him that this isn’t his place, but he immediately squashes it.

 

“I know –“ Jiyong tries to interject, but he squashes that, too.

 

“If you’re struggling with money, I can help. I just don’t want you doing…that again.” He hisses down the phone, aware that this isn’t a conversation to have around work colleagues. A couple of emails pop up in his inbox from a client he’s been waiting to hear from, but he barely gives them a second glance.

 

“But if I hadn’t done _that_ , we wouldn’t have met.” The smirk in the other man’s voice is almost audible, but Seunghyun’s having none of it.

 

“That doesn’t mean the job is safe.” He shuts him down, thinking about the time he had to save Jiyong from a particularly pushy customer. It’s the other man’s sweaty palms that still stand out most to him, the way they rested on Jiyong’s body like he owned him. The thought of another man touching him like that again, of anyone else touching him again…

 

“I know. And I appreciate your concern, and your offer.” Jiyong says with a sigh. “You’re very sweet.”

 

“Hmmm.” Seunghyun all but grunts, still not able to shake off the way he’s feeling. It’s possessive, it’s jealousy, it’s anger, all rolled into one confusing emotion. He’s never felt like this before, not about someone.

 

“Ah. Acting aloof now. As if you weren’t being all cute and possessive a few seconds ago.” A laugh comes down the phone from Jiyong, before he sobers up a second later. “Well, I’ll leave you to your work Mr. Corporate.”

 

“Thanks. I’ll come over tomorrow, you’ll text the address?” Swallowing his feelings, Seunghyun asks. He swivels back around, lets his legs stretch out underneath his desk and bump into all the discarded possessions under there.  

 

“On it.” Jiyong affirms.

 

“Ok, bye.”

 

“Bye.”

 

“Bye.”

 

“Byeee –“

 

“Yep, bye.”

 

“I’ll hang up.” Jiyong laughs, just seconds before the call ends. It hits Seunghyun, looking at the blank screen, that he forgot to wish Jiyong luck for the interview tomorrow. He still can’t get rid of the feeling gnawing at his insides, but he tries his best to ignore them as he pulls up his and Jiyong’s text messages on his phone.

 

 

 

 

Seunghyun: Good luck!

 

 

 

 

He quickly types, brow furrowing inadvertently. Looking up from his phone as the text sends, he catches a glimpse of himself in the, now black, computer screen in front of him.

 

God, he is caught hook, line, and sinker.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jiyong texts his new address the next day. It comes up during a meeting with potential clients and Seunghyun has to hide his smile behind his hand, flip his phone face down so he isn’t tempted to stare at the ‘Jiyong’ written on the screen. The day seems to drag on like no day has ever done before; the big and little hands ticking over the clock facer slower than no other hands have ever done before. No one can talk fast enough for him, no one can walk fast enough for him. As soon as the little digital ‘four’ on his watch turns into a ‘five’ he’s hoisting his bag over his shoulders, switching off his computer and power walking out of the office. He just about manages to throw a few ‘bye’s over his shoulder before leaving the building, stepping out into the busy pavement.

 

The map on his phone says a delightful _40 minutes walk,_ and he looks up from the screen with a grimace at the throng of people rushing down the streets towards the tube station. A sigh escapes him involuntarily as he pulls up his text messages to the other man.

 

  
Seunghyun: on my way :)

 

 

He sends, running his free hand through his hair. It’s tired and limp from a day rushing about, and he half debates going home for a shower before heading over to Jiyong’s. That thought doesn’t last long at all though, not with Jiyong on his mind, and he turns swiftly on his heels to join the flow of people. It hits him, as he lets himself get carried along by the crowd like a salmon in a school of fish, that for the first time in a long time, he’s not nervous about seeing Jiyong. There’s a bunch of butterflies in his stomach, sure. But they’re friendlier than they’ve ever been, gentler than they’ve ever been. His poor, much maligned finger nails have made it through the day intact, he hasn’t fallen into his terrible habit of knotting his hair.

 

There’s almost a spring in his step as he realises that, walking to the tube as fast as possible. His body quickly heats up under his many layers, and once he finally reaches the station he quickly whips off his scarf, shrugs off his jacket and shoves his gloves in his pockets. It’s just two stops so he doesn’t mind standing in the train, body practically held up by the other bodies around him.

 

The train can’t move fast enough for him, but eventually it reaches his destination and he worms his way out of the crowd, landing on the platform and taking a deep breath in. From here it’s a short walk, and as he makes his way towards the escalators he begins to feel a few familiar twinges of nervousness. It grows as he gets back to ground level, as he leaves the station and turns the corner onto the street. It grows even more as the minutes on his google maps go from 5, to 4, to 3, to 2. Then, in the blink of an eye, _the destination is on his left._

Upon looking at the doorbells, he realises that he doesn’t even know what flat Jiyong lives in.

 

 

Seunghyun: I’m downstairs!

 

 

 

He sends to Jiyong. Before he can lock the phone screen, the other man is already replying.

 

 

 

Jiyong: perfect. Im literally a minute away, wait for me!

 

 

 

Seunghyun looks up from his phone and squints down the road he’d just walked. True to his words, there’s a small figure at the end of it. Despite his blurry vision, there is no mistaking that walk for anyone else’s. It sends an entirely new flock of butterflies fluttering around his stomach and suddenly he’s at a loss for where to put his hands. In his pockets? Or should he cross his arms? Is he standing weirdly?

 

 _Stop it, you idiot,_ a voice in the back of his head hisses.

 

It’s just Jiyong.

 

Just Jiyong.

 

And then ‘Just Jiyong’ is mere few yards away from him, features starting to get definition and characteristic walk even more pronounced. He slides his phone back into his pocket, plasters on a smile that he hopes doesn’t betray just how he’s feeling right now, and tells himself to _act natural._

 

“Hi.” Jiyong says, a small smile across his lips, when there’s nothing but a few feet between them. He hangs back slightly, they both do, but with slight hesitation he goes in for a hug. There’s something unspoken between them as their bodies meet, something that says _you broke up with your boyfriend for me_. When they pull apart, those words are still there. They’re written in Jiyong’s eyes, whether he intended for that or not.

 

But they make the journey into the flat regardless of what is left unsaid, and he follows Jiyong up the staircase as they fall into a familiar pattern of _how was your day, how was work, what have you been up to?_ And then, chests subtly rising and falling at a slightly elevated pace, they’re at a landing and he’s watching the younger man put his keys into a door. The door swings open to a flat not unlike his own; cramped, a little worn down, mismatched furniture scattered sparsely about the place.

 

Jiyong leads him in, switching on a light as he goes. Even the light is dingy, dim and an awful shade of yellow. It flickers once, casting Jiyong in front of him into darkness for the briefest of seconds.

 

“What do you think?” The man in front of him asks. Seunghyun looks around, but barely a few seconds pass before he’s already taken anything in. _What is there to think, really?_ But then his gaze returns to Jiyong, wide eyed and messy haired. Does it really matter what their surroundings are?

 

“I love it.” He says, with a smile.

 

Jiyong snorts, flopping down onto the sofa – one that’s definitely seen better days.

 

“Sure.” He picks up a leaflet from the table in front of him – one that’s also seen better days, and waves it in Seunghyun’s face. “One good thing about the place: there’s a shit tonne of cheap take aways near by.” Seunghyun plops down on the sofa next to him, careful to maintain a little bit of space between the two of them. He arches his neck to have a look at the paper in Jiyong’s hands, getting close enough to the other man to hear his gentle breathing. As his eyes scan the menu of Chinese food, he also hears a sigh.

 

“Seunghyun.” Jiyong says, drawing his attention away from the menu. “Why is there so much space between us?” He asks, glancing at the fabric of the sofa between them.

 

“Oh, oh, I –“ Seunghyun stutters, stopping altogether as Jiyong shifts his weight towards the centre of the sofa. Their thighs touch, shoulders brush against each other, toes clad in mismatched socks line up next to each other on the floor. He can feel the other man’s body heat through his shirt, feel the way Jiyong’s elbow rests gently on his own thigh.

 

“This is better.” Jiyong says. The smile on his face is brilliant, intoxicating.


	19. Cold Feet

His wet feet threaten to slip on the already damp bathroom floor, sending him clutching the radiator with a quick hand. It’s followed by a loud hiss from his own mouth, realising just how hot the radiator is. There’s a loud laugh from behind him and his head whirls around to greet the source – Jiyong, naked, soap suds covering his body and shampoo still in his hair. And a wide, wide grin on his face – at Seunghyun’s expense.

 

“It’s that one there.” Jiyong says, still grinning, as he points to a bottle of conditioner on the windowsill. The bottle is almost indistinguishable from the others already in the shower, but if Jiyong says he needs volume in his hair today then he will get him a volumizing conditioner, so help him God. The short walk back to the shower is through the steam coming up from the water – made harder by his poor eyesight – but he has a guiding light in Jiyong’s bright hair. Today it’s a bright orange, the colour not even darkened by the water that drips from it.

 

“You don’t want a colour care conditioner?” Seunghyun asks, stepping back into the shower. His free hand grips the glass door as his feet go to give way once more but, this time, he’s caught by Jiyong’s soapy hands. His thin fingers prop him up by his biceps, and, once steady enough, Seunghyun looks up to the the other man’s body shaking with laughter.

 

“That’s what the shampoo was for.” Jiyong takes the conditioner from his hands and squeezes some out into his palms. With his hands full of the stuff he brings them up to his hair and runs graceful fingers through each strand, looking back up at Seunghyun with mischievous eyes as he does so. “And since when do you know about colour care conditioner?”

 

“It’s too much time with you.” Seunghyun mutters, manoeuvring his larger body around Jiyong’s smaller one, bringing his own hands up to join Jiyong’s as they rub their fingers in his now silky smooth hair. The past three weeks have been a bit of a whirlwind, with him as good as moving in after spending his first night at Jiyong’s flat. They’ve only been apart when it’s been time to go off to their respective day jobs – and there’s been plenty of mornings tucked under the covers with Jiyong’s head resting in the crook of his neck that he’s contemplated quitting work altogether.

 

“You can never have too much time with me.” Jiyong flashes a smile back at him. He gently leans his head into Seunghyun’s touch, letting him slowly massage his scalp. Subtly, the rest of his body follows suit until bare flesh is pressed up against bare flesh, the only thing between their bodies being the water from the shower that runs down their bodies in twists and turns, meanders around belly buttons and moles, curves along joints and clings onto body hair.

 

With Jiyong’s bare skin pressed against him, it’s tough to keep his breathing steady. Tough to keep his heartbeat at a normal pace when all it wants to do is leap out of his chest with all the force of a racehorse released from its stocks. He gulps, letting his eyes wander down from the pair of shoulders just below his own to the curve of Jiyong’s back, up and down each ridge of his spine. Down towards the small of his back, the soft flesh of his bum, and his thin but muscular thighs.

 

His mind is suddenly full of the memory of what those thighs were doing last night. What they did beneath the thin sheets of Jiyong’s bed covers; the way they clung to his own legs, refusing to let go even as they both drifted off to sleep. Just a few weeks ago he couldn’t have even imagined being comfortable doing what they did last night, or even being comfortable in his current predicament. He was all fumbling hands, sweaty palms. Inexperience and anxiety. But Jiyong is like a drug, and his confidence is infectious.

 

“You’re supposed to say: “Oh no, of course I can’t possibly spend too much time with you, Jiyong.”” The man in front of him says, his head bobbing side to side as he speaks. It breaks the spell on Seunghyun, bringing him out of his thoughts and back to the present. “Oh well, I’ll imagine you said it.” He shrugs, bony shoulders bouncing up and down, as he slides the shower door open. In a flash, he’s out of Seunghyun’s reach; stepping out of the shower to make wet footprints against the towel laid out on the bathroom floor.

 

With water still running down his own body, he watches Jiyong bend down to pick up a towel. His gaze turns slightly rueful as the man in front of him drapes the towel around his shoulders, wrap his slender body up in the fabric. Jiyong then shakes his head, scattering droplets of water about the room, and rubs a hand across the steamed up mirror. Their eyes meet in the reflection of the glass.

 

“Hey. Stop staring at me.” He says, as the mirror fogs up once again and their eyes lose contact. But Seunghyun doesn’t need a mirror to know the smile that’s spread over Jiyong’s face. “Get out and get dressed before you’re tempted to jump me again.”

 

Seunghyun scoffs, turning off the shower. It’s followed by an abrupt silence, the only sound coming from the last few drops of water dangling off the showerhead.

 

“ _Me?_ ” He says, shaking his head like Jiyong had done a few seconds earlier. Once again his mind is flooded with the memory of last night – Jiyong’s hands roaming all over his body, tugging at the buttons of his pyjamas so hard he thought he might rip them off. “You’re the one who can’t keep their hands off me.”

 

“You have a very selective memory,” Jiyong says, cocking an eyebrow. “Did you know that?”

 

He flicks the end of his towel against Seunghyun’s leg before tossing it to him. Distracted trying to think of a comeback, Seunghyun lets it fall to the ground. Jiyong turns, crosses the few feet it takes to get to the door and tosses Seunghyun a wink over his shoulder. Naked, save for the clothes bunched in front of his private parts, he opens the door to walk through it, steam from the room following his bare backside as he closes the door behind him.

 

The door closes with a soft _thud_ , leaving him alone with the towel crumpled at his feet. After picking it up he wraps the damp fabric around his waist and steps gingerly out of the shower, onto the bathmat.

 

He does know that he has a selective memory. He knows he has an awful habit of only remembering what he wants to, of looking back at things with rose tinted glasses or painting himself and his actions in the best light. But when it comes to the past couple of weeks, he knows there’s no discrepancy between reality and his perception of it. No rose tinted glasses, no idealism going on there. It’s been wonderful. _They’ve_ been wonderful.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _The bloody honey moon stage_ , Soohyuk calls it, voice dripping with sarcasm as they take their seats at the table. They’d decided to meet for lunch just a few days ago, part of his attempt to build the bridge between Jiyong and Soohyuk. The last time they met had ended in an argument, so he raises a wary eyebrow at his friend.

 

“We’re happy.” Jiyong shrugs. There’s a brief, tense pause. Both Soohyuk and Jiyong stare each other down, with Seunghyun ignored in the middle. Their glasses stand empty on the table in front of them – a shame, because he could really use a drink right now.

 

“And I’m happy for you.” Soohyuk says, eventually. Picking up one of the empty glasses, he clinks it against the others. Seunghyun looks to Jiyong, waiting for the younger man to take offence. Instead, he looks up in amusement.

 

“I knew we’d find common ground one day.” He says, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

 

“What are we all getting?” Seunghyun asks, before anyone else can say anything. He picks up the menu gingerly; it’s crummy and sticky, much like the rest of the restaurant. The place is one of Jiyong’s choosing; dark lighting, sticky tables, and music loud enough to strain their ears.

 

At least he won’t be able to hear them when they inevitably start arguing.

 

To his surprise, though, Soohyuk must be feeling charitable towards him today (or maybe it’s just the chilled bottle of wine the waitress brings to their table). His digs – and there are plenty of them – are just subtle enough to fly underneath Jiyong’s radar. They manage to make it all the way through lunch without either of them storming off – and, as they start to scrape their plates clean – the two men who were at odds just a few months ago start to team up on _him_.

 

“Does he still talk in his sleep?” Soohyuk asks, reaching for his wine glass to down the last dregs of it.

 

“No – he sleeps so heavily I can’t wake him up in the morning!” Jiyong laughs.

 

“He used to sleep walk. I once woke up to him climbing on top of me –“

 

“Maybe that was his subconscious speaking!” Jiyong butts in, laughter shaking his body. Instinctively Seunghyun goes to pull his hand away from his mouth – a habit borne of insecurity that he still can’t shake – but no, not with Soohyuk there. Instead he reaches for his own glass of wine and follows suit with Soohyuk, sticking his tongue in to get the last few drips.

 

This conversation should make him uncomfortable. But he’s so overwhelmingly relieved that they’re getting along that all he can do is laugh along.

 

“So, the flat.” Soohyuk eventually brings up. Seunghyun swallows, looking to Jiyong. “You didn’t tell him?”

 

Seunghyun shakes his head.

 

“I want Seunghyun to move in with me.” He directs at Jiyong. “It’s an amazing place – there’s really no reason for him to say no.”  
  
“There are reasons.”

 

“Money? That’s fine, I’ve told you I’ll front you.” Soohyuk insists, leaning into the table. “Or you and Jiyong could both move in and split the rent! Easy peasy.”

 

“You two together?” Seunghyun scoffs, the words spilling out of his mouth before he has time to think.

 

“We’d be fine!” They both say in unison, eyes as wide as saucers. “We’ve been fine today.” Soohyuk exclaims, waving his hands around in disbelief; disbelief that Seunghyun could possibly think otherwise.

 

“Excuse me if one dinner doesn’t fill me with confidence.” Seunghyun purses his lips. He needs peace. He needs harmony. The three of them together under one roof is a recipe for disaster. “You two can get along, I don’t doubt that. But you’re too…different for us to live together.”

 

“I don’t believe these excuses.” Soohyuk scoffs. “Jiyong, convince him.”

 

Both of them look towards the man in question, sitting there in silence. Any annoyance he’s held towards Soohyuk melts away as he looks at Jiyong, staring wide eyed back at him. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows.

 

“I need the toilet.” He says, scraping his chair along the floor as he stands up. “Be back in a mo.”

 

 

“Don’t you feel too old for this place?” Once Jiyong is out of earshot, Soohyuk asks. “I don’t miss this about Jiyong.” He quirks up the corner of his mouth as Seunghyun darts a nervous look to wear Jiyong is disappearing, winding around dining tables to get to the toilets.

 

“You’re two very different people, Soohyuk.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

 

“But we can live together. Or you can live with me and he can come over sometimes. That’s very doable.” His friend says, reaching for his empty wine glass to down the dregs. “I feel a little like you’re choosing him over me.”

 

“Uh-“ Seunghyun goes to protest. That’s the _last_ thing he wants Soohyuk to think.

 

“ _It’s fine_.” His friend stresses.

 

“I’m not choosing him over you.”

 

The corners of Soohyuk’s lips lift into a smile as his eyebrows furrow slightly - as much as the doctors on Harley Street will allow. There’s a thin jumper around his shoulders, more tattered and yet – he’s willing to bet – somehow also more expensive than anything Seunghyun could own. But he looks good, as always. Effortlessly composed, as if he’d walked straight out of a magazine.

 

At the opposite end of the restaurant, Jiyong emerges from the bathroom door. They lock eyes across the room and Jiyong flashes him a smile, accompanying it with a little wave of his hand.

 

God, he loves him.

 

“I’ll be nicer to him, seriously.” He faintly hears Soohyuk say.

 

Jiyong’s eyes form little crescent moons above his smile as his loose, silky green shirt sways from side to side along his chest. Soft strands of hair bounce about his head with step after step.

 

“ _I do like him, I really do._ ” Soohyuk insists, but it falls on deaf ears.

 

“I think I’m going to take him to meet my mum.” He says, absentmindedly. It’s only now that he’s decided to do so – but it feels right.

 

“It hasn’t been that long, Seunghyun.”

 

Jiyong carries on winding around the tables and Seunghyun watches as his small frame bumps into the back of a waiter, as the waiter’s tray tips towards the ground and sends glasses clattering down. Jiyong jumps back, wide eyed, as they shatter on the floor.   
  
“Feels like the right time, though.” He says, a solitary voice against the loud music of the restaurant.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thinking that it’s right time doesn’t stop the nerves in his stomach, apparently. His anxious gaze alternates between the door and the clock on the wall, watching the big hand that edges ever closer to 6pm. Next to him Jiyong fiddles with the skin around his nails. His hair is pushed back into a slick hairstyle and he’s covered all of his tattoos with a buttoned up shirt. It’s a far cry from the man he first met.

 

“You didn’t have to dress this smart, you know.” He says, voice echoing around the quiet room. Jiyong lets out a large breath of air.

 

“Well, it’s done now.”

 

“I shouldn’t have invited her over here.” Seunghyun nibbles his bottom lip, looking around ruefully at his flat. His mother had been dying to see his new place for months, but she has high standards. The sparse, second hand furniture and the cracks in the walls won’t be to her taste.

 

“Probably not.” Jiyong replies.

 

“You weren’t supposed to agree.” Seunghyun snaps. But any argument they may have is interrupted by a loud knock on the door. Even if he hadn’t known his mum was coming round, he would’ve known that knock anywhere. Four short raps on the wood, in a rhythm that takes him back to being a little child, clutching onto the hems of his mother’s skirts.

 

Jumping up from his seat on the sofa, Seunghyun quickly runs the palms of his hands down his top in an attempt to iron out the wrinkles. They’re the first thing his mother will notice, even before the man standing behind him. Jiyong gives an audible swallow, standing up to join Seunghyun. They both stare, wide eyed, towards the door.

 

Years ago, when he introduced Eun Hee to the family, the nerves weren’t quite this bad. Sure, it wasn’t the most confident he’d ever felt. And sure, he might have had to down a glass of wine before their dinner. But she was a girl, it was expected of him. This is uncharted seas, unexplored lands.

 

 _It would’ve been much easier to stay with Eunhee_ , says a quiet voice at the back of his mind.

 

The man next to him smiles, a nervous smile that starts to look more like a grimace with every passing second. There are faint worry lines at his forehead and he’s still fiddling with the skin around his fingernails. Eunhee wasn’t like this – she was as calm and composed as ever. Took his mum in her arms like she was greeting an old friend, joked with his sister as if they’d known each other their whole lives. Meanwhile, he was dribbling wine down his shirt.

 

Jiyong’s anxiety gives him a boost of confidence and he strides ahead to the door. Without giving himself time to think, he swings it open. There’s a slight pause before his mum has her arms wrapped around him and, being much shorter than he is, her head rests on her chest. She feels like home.

 

The hug doesn’t last that long, because as soon as she gets a peek of Jiyong behind him he’s out of her arms. She wriggles past him into the flat, her arms outstretched and fingers wiggling. Before he can turn around he hears a small _oomf_ from Jiyong, and looks behind him to see him leaning back under the weight of his mother. Not even Eunhee got this reception. His mum pulls away, grasping Jiyong’s forearms like she’s worried she’ll lose him if she lets go.

 

“ _So_ nice to finally meet you.” She says. Behind the big curls that fall down her head, Seunghyun can just about make out a massive smile on Jiyong’s face.

 

“You’re even prettier than Seunghyun described you.” Jiyong says, slipping into the confident, disarmingly charming Jiyong he knows so well. His mum bats the compliment away and urges Jiyong back into the flat – she’s barely been there for a minute but it’s already become her own home. When there’s a bit of space between the two of them and Jiyong, she turns back to Seunghyun.

 

“He’s a keeper.” She whispers. With that, all his worries melt away.

 

But, whilst he may be able to hide it well, Seunghyun can tell that the same doesn’t quite happen for Jiyong after their exchange in the hallway. With slightly shaky hands he uncorks a bottle of wine as they join him in the living room. A few drops spill onto the table as he sloshes it into their wine glasses. It’s still endearing, seeing Jiyong nervous (although he’s not about to tell him that). He manages to maintain a good mask as they take their seats at Seunghyun’s dining table – although, this will be the first time he’s used it according to its name – but there’s a tension in his shoulders that’s never been there before, a different persona pulled on over his button up shirt and slicked back hair that Seunghyun has never had the pleasure of meeting before.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“So, do you think you’re going to be in this flat for long?” His mum asks, after the standard set of questions asked to anyone in Jiyong’s position. _Where did you grow up? What do you do? University? How did you vote for Brexit?_ Having been keenly aware of her less-than-discrete glances around the place, Seunghyun is faintly surprised it’s taken her this long to ask the question. Her sharp eyes have taken in everything from the spots of mould around the kitchen window to the mysterious burn marks in the carpet. They’ve lingered on the dust that gathers in corners – no matter what he does to get rid of it – and the cracks in the leather sofa.

 

“I don’t know.” He says, swallowing. His immediate thoughts are of the flat he saw with Soohyuk, with its brand new furnishings and freshly painted walls. The sash windows that don’t get jammed open and the new hardwood flooring. He looks at the man opposite him. “Soohyuk wants me to move into a new place with him.”

 

“Is it nice?” His mum asks, as she grabs the bottle of wine to top up their glasses. Jiyong goes to take the bottle from her, but she bats his arm away with an ‘ _it’s fine, honey’._

 

“Really nice, and it would be mates rates, I guess.” He replies, keeping his gaze on Jiyong. He’s watching for any change in the other man’s expression, anything to say that he’s not happy with this. Almost as if he knows this, Jiyong maintains a fool-proof poker face.

 

“So you’re going for it?”

 

“I don’t know.”   
  
“What’s holding you back?”

 

“I ….”

 

“He thinks it would be awkward,” Jiyong butts in, looking at Seunghyun with a knowing expression. The corners of his mouth are turned ever so slightly upwards. “Because Soohyuk and I used to date.”

 

There’s a slight pause.

 

“This boy.” His mum looks towards Jiyong, shaking her head. “He’ll be the death of me. Don’t let him by the death of you, too.”

 

Jiyong laughs – a big laugh that he can’t control, and out of his open lips falls his mouthful of wine. It dribbles down onto his shirt and he darts a hand up to his mouth, eyes wide open. A deep blush starts to spread over his cheeks as he mops at the liquid around his lips with the back of his hand. His mum hasn’t even noticed anything, eyes still roaming around his dingy flat, but from Jiyong’s expression you would be forgiven for thinking this were the end of the world.

 

For his part, Seunghyun tries to stop the smile that threatens to spread from ear to ear.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Do you think she liked me?” Jiyong asks, later that night.

 

“I think she loved you.” Seunghyun answers, remembering the way his mum looked back at the two of them as she left the flat. Under the covers, he reaches out a hand to grasp Jiyong’s smaller one. “Why were you so nervous?” He laughs.

 

There’s a pause before Jiyong speaks next.

 

“Because I like you a lot.” He says, simply. Through the dark Seunghyun can just about make out the other man’s eyes, only visible by the moonlight that comes in through the cracks in the blinds. They’re looking downwards through his eyelashes, away from him. “It’s important that she likes me.”

 

That makes Seunghyun shut up. And, with nothing to say, Jiyong fills the silence.

 

“’Who couldn’t like you, Jiyong.’ You’re supposed to say.” He says, in a childish voice.

 

Seunghyun doesn’t have to be able to see to know the smile that’s made itself at home on Jiyong’s face after that comment.

 

“ _Ooof._ ” Jiyong says, as Seunghyun’s foot makes gentle contact with his groin.

                                                                                

“Stop fishing for compliments.” Seunghyun laughs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“When does he need an answer from you?” Jiyong asks, bringing up the conversation from last night. He has a mouth full of toast and his hand is still holding the butter knife as he leans against Seunghyun’s kitchen counter. Seunghyun leans against the opposite one, watching Jiyong move around in nothing but a dressing gown. Before she’d left, his mum had been all for him moving in with Soohyuk.

 

 _“You’re overthinking everything again, Hyunnie.”_ She’d said, standing at the open door to his flat, cold air coming in from the outside and bringing goosebumps up on their skin.

 

“Like, last week.” Turning his attention back to the man in front of him, Seunghyun replies. In one quick move he darts around Jiyong’s body to nip the other slice of toast. Jiyong protests, but not before Seunghyun can ram the crunchy carbs in his mouth. “Really, I should let him know today.” He mumbles, satisfied with his work.

 

“And you’re letting him know that…?” Jiyong prompts, still staring mournfully at his dearly departed slice of toast. Seunghyun sighs: despite having plenty of time to decide, he can’t seem to reach a consensus. On the one hand, it’s surely an offer too good to refuse. On the other…

 

“Don’t _you_ think it will be weird?” He asks, running a crummy hand through his hair. Seeing this, Jiyong reaches up onto his toes and stretches out a hand, picking out the bread crumbs with delicate fingers. “Me, you…and your ex boyfriend?”

 

“It’s only weird if you think it’s weird.”

 

Seunghyun pulls away, frowning.

 

“I think most people would think it’s weird.”

 

“I don’t see what’s wrong with weird.” Jiyong shrugs. The dressing gown, tied just loosely around his waist, threatens to dip down his shoulders. But Seunghyun isn’t going to let himself get distracted at the sight of Jiyong’s bare skin, not at this hour in the morning.

 

“You just want a nice flat.” He retorts. “Classic gold digger.”

 

“Your gold mine ran out the day you left Eunhee.” Jiyong smirks. He brings the butter knife up to his lips, sticks out a pink tongue and licks it clean in one swift motion. “Why did you think it took so much work to convince me we should be together?” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Despite his conversation with Jiyong, it still takes him a few days before he’s ready to give his friend an answer. It takes a lot of stalling, of ignoring Soohyuk’s increasingly frantic messages and the anxiety bubbling up in his chest, but he needs it. Everything is just _so good_ right now. And maybe it’s a little tough trying to manoeuvre both their bodies around the small shower in his flat, angling their bodies around the springs in his mattress, or sinking too far into the sofa to physically eat.

 

But it works, and he doesn’t want to do anything that could upset that.

 

Moving in with Soohyuk, that could.

 

But - going against any voice of reason, pang of anxiety, and stubborn pride - he wants it.

 

 

 

Seunghyun: I’ll move in with you :)

 

 

 

He finally sends to Soohyuk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry it's taking me so long alkshflsnflsdgn and i don't even feel like this is worth the wait askdlakfnd


End file.
